The Grace Series
by XScout
Summary: Tracking a serial killer may be Mulder and Scully's downfall when the suspect has inside information. A series of stories following the X-Files team as they deal with the consequences of one case.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Tracking a serial killer may be Mulder and Scully's downfall when the suspect has inside information.

Disclaimer: The X-Files is the property of Chris Carter and 10-13 Productions, no infringement intended.

Author's Note: Originally written back in 1999. Acronyms used: UNSUB = Unidentified Subject

* * *

GRACE SERIES I: FALLEN FROM GRACE

Prescott's Inn  
Friday  
12:33 a.m.

He studied the plate in front of him with trepidation. The steak was thick and juicy, the edges blackened just the way he liked, the sauce was his favorite. If only the smell didn't make him gag. He picked up the knife and fork with trembling hands, biting his lower lip as he cut into the meat.

Blood. It was suddenly everywhere, welling out from the cut in the steak, gleaming bright on the utensils, slick on his hands. The blackened meat undulated and quivered before his eyes, turning a creamy peach shade, the color of skin. He gripped the knife in his hand, watching the glistening blood drip down across the wooden handle and onto his fingers. He dropped the utensil hastily and pushed away from the table, springing from his seat with such force that the chair toppled backwards onto the floor.

Scully's head snapped up at the noise, watching with fear and concern as her partner sprinted for the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. The sounds of retching were amplified by the silence of the room. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before herself retreating from the table, walking quickly across the room to where he had so abruptly departed.

He was leaning over the toilet, his shoulders quaking as he dry heaved uselessly. She knelt down beside him and placed a small hand at the nape of his neck, offering comfort. The quaking finally stopped and he bent forward, placing his cheek against the cool porcelain. She moved her hand down to rub his back. "Mulder?"

He opened his eyes to blearily gaze at her. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Scully shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I knew you were having trouble, I shouldn't have forced you to eat."

He sighed dejectedly and blinked slowly. "You were only trying to help."

She smiled sadly. "Yes, I was. Do you think you can stand?"

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. She lifted his left arm up and draped it over her shoulders, her right arm going around his waist. Together they managed to get him upright and they staggered over to the bed where he collapsed in a sprawl.

"You should get some sleep."

He snorted. "I don't have time for rest."

"*Yes* you do. You've written the profile and suggested several possible leads. All that needs to be done is narrow down the list of suspects, and Gillis' team is perfectly capable of dealing with that. So you can just forget about working."

He jutted out his lower lip petulantly, looking like he was about to argue. But before he opened his mouth, he realized that she was right and instead only nodded. He tried to summon the strength to undress but he didn't have the energy to move. Scully understood immediately and moved to help. She pulled off his shoes, his pants following in quick order. Next she unbuttoned his dress shirt and gently pulled it off.

Not bothering to make him get under the covers, she went through the open door connecting their rooms and retrieved the blankets from her bed. Carrying them back, she was amused to find that he was already asleep, his breath coming slow and deep. She draped the blankets over her partner's form, making sure that he was warm enough. Brushing a few stray locks from his forehead, she whispered, "Sweet dreams, Mulder."

She glanced at her watch. It was well past midnight but she didn't think she could sleep. So instead, she cleared the remains of their dinner, placing the uneaten food back on the cart that room service had provided. Going back to her own room, she brought back her laptop and autopsy notes. She didn't want to leave Mulder alone, in case he woke up and needed her. And she knew he eventually would.

Plagued by horrifying nightmares, he would wake screaming, terrified and confused, not knowing where he was but certain that he was alone. She had seen it more often than she liked to admit. Because cases like this came along too often.

It had started last Friday when they were called out of their office and flown down to a small town in Kansas, called Plainville. Living up to its name in both culture and population, it was the last place one would suspect a serial killer lurked. The agents from the Kansas City office had requested a profiler, asking for Mulder by name. Apparently the ASAC, James Gillis, had worked with Mulder before, back when he was in the VCS.

Mulder had agreed, owing Gillis a favor for a past deed. So they came, and for once were greeted with open enthusiasm instead of hostility. A few of the other agents grumbled and one or two actually complained out loud about 'Spooky' being called in, but they were in the minority. Before long even those complaints were silenced as Mulder's theories proved right again and again. His uncanny ability to understand the killer's motives was drawing them closer to the suspect, bringing this case closer to being resolved.

And it needed to be solved soon. The community of Plainville was outraged at the seeming inactivity of the Bureau, claiming that they weren't working hard enough to catch the UNSUB. Public outcry could be a powerful motivator but the agents had already been doing everything humanly possible to solve this. Seven men slaughtered over a period of a month, the last one after Mulder and Scully had been brought onto the case a week ago. They were strangled with a length of jute and then their bodies mutilated horribly. Eyes and tongue removed, a large knife used to cut open the abdomen from neck to navel. The press had morbidly proclaimed the killer 'The Wrangler' in tribute to his use of rope to strangle the victims.

Leaving no evidence, nothing but the condition of the victims' bodies as a clue, it was easy to see why it was so hard trying to catch this guy. But this was apparently enough for Mulder, enough so that he could write an intimate profile describing everything about the Unidentified Subject, down to the type of car he drove. Though she still didn't understand how he was able to extract this kind of information from the amount of evidence in hand, she never questioned his accuracy. It was his unique skill - one that she had envied until her first real exposure to what was entailed during the Mostow case.

This time she had done all she could to make sure Mulder didn't delve too deep into the abyss of the killer's mind, but she also had other responsibilities. Namely performing the autopsy on the last victim and reviewing the results of the first six. Her findings, coupled with the profile Mulder had finished early this morning, had Gillis' team frantically searching through a list of names, shortening it as suspects were eliminated.

Now, seven days after their arrival, they were allowed a respite. She had taken the opportunity to try and get Mulder to eat something, as he had scarcely any nourishment the last few days. She should have known better. Even if there was the slightest chance that he did have an appetite, she should have chosen something easy, like soup or a salad. Anything but meat. Cooked flesh was-

Her train of thought was interrupted by a groan from the direction of the bed. She turned her attention to the man occupying that bed. His features were drawn and pale, his forehead beaded with perspiration, his body twitching slightly in response to an unpleasant dream. It was a sharp contrast to his appearance when she had on occasion seen him in slumber. Usually his face was relaxed, no longer reflecting the sadness that pervaded his life. Thick brown hair tousled slightly, his long lashes resting on high cheekbones. He looked like an angel.

But now he looked like an angel in torment, an angel fallen from grace. Cast down into the hellish realities of death and destruction that swirled from the mind of a murderer. How often she wished she could give him his wings back.

***********  
Friday  
7:56 a.m.

A soft knock preceded his entrance into the room. "You almost ready, Scully?"

She stuck her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush protruding from her mouth. "Jush a mi-it," she said through the foam, disappearing back into the small room.

Mulder wandered over to sit on the edge of her bed. "No hurry, the briefing isn't until eight-thirty." He ran a hand through his hair, still damp from his shower. After returning from his run he had been surprised to find that his partner was still asleep, the blankets pulled up to her chin.

Though not as surprised as he was to wake up in bed with her. But then he had remembered her slipping in to comfort him after he woke from another nightmare. Feeling guilty for depriving her of much needed rest, he had let her sleep a while longer.

Scully, for her part, had been slightly annoyed that she now had to rush to get ready, but was grateful for the extra rest and so had done nothing more than give him a pained expression before scurrying into her room to shower. He might be able to get by on four hours of sleep, but she could not. He had woken up just before three a.m., sobbing and disoriented. She had climbed into the bed with him, desperate to remind him that he wasn't alone. Cradling him in her arms, she had rocked back and forth until he drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Unable to move, lulled by his warm body and rhythmic breathing, she had soon followed.

Appraising herself in the mirror one last time before switching off the light, she was gratified to find that the smudges under her eyes were barely perceptible. "Think we have time for a quick breakfast?" she asked, joining Mulder.

He blanched and she sighed quietly. It was worth a try. "Never mind."

He smiled apologetically, opening the door for her. "Maybe we'll be able to grab brunch later."

She glanced up at him, delighted that he was at least making an effort. Laying her hand on his arm she squeezed gently. He grinned softly, letting her know that he was going to be fine, he just needed a little time. She dropped her hand and they turned as one, heading down the hallway together.

************  
9769 Cambury Drive  
1:17 p.m.

"Well, this is the last one. I can't tell if anyone is home. If this doesn't pan out, you want to get a bite to eat? We missed that brunch."

"Sure. I hope the others are having more luck than we are." Scully shook her head dejectedly. The number of suspects had been reduced to 23 possibles, a far cry from half the population of the town. Dividing the list up among the agents assigned to the case, Gillis instructed them to interview the people on their respective lists, bringing in anyone who remotely matched the description of the UNSUB. Due to the absence of one of the team members, Mulder and Scully had been given an extra two people to question. After talking with the first four men on their list and dismissing them as possible suspects, the two had now reached the home of the last man.

They walked up the unkempt path of the untended yard, Mulder's hand resting lightly on the small of Scully's back. They stepped up to the door, the rickety porch groaning in protest under their weight. Scully fingered the wires poking out from the location of the doorbell, her eyebrow raised.

"Think one girl scout too many came knocking at his door?" Mulder quipped.

"Maybe he doesn't like cookies," she returned. She rapped her knuckles on the hard wood of the entrance, listening intently for any movement on the other side.

Scully jerked back when the door was pulled open violently, revealing a large figure, his face set in a scowl. "Raymond Dolby?" Mulder asked.

"Yeah?" His voice was gruff, matching his tattered appearance. Dressed in faded jeans, complete with several holes, and a stained white T-shirt topped with a red flannel, he was the portrait of an unemployed construction worker.

"I'm Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully, we're from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We'd like to ask you a few questions Sir."

Dolby's eyes widened as Mulder introduced them, then narrowed at the mention of questions. "Sure. C'mon in." He held the door open and let them pass. Shutting it and locking the dead-bolt, he led them to the living room, gesturing to a pair of old armchairs. "Have a seat."

Scully nodded, accepting the offer. Mulder preferred to stand, using his height advantage to put the other man on edge. He had a feeling about Ray Dolby. Dolby ignored Mulder's refusal to sit and lowered himself into the other chair, next to Scully.

"So, what do you want to know?"

Scully caught Mulder's eye, telling her that she should start. "Where were you four days ago?"

"What, all day?" Dolby smirked haughtily.

"In the evening. Around eleven o'clock," she prompted.

"I was out with a couple of my buddies, playing pool at The Black Wolf. We go there every Monday," he answered easily.

"Can we have their names and the name of the bartender?" Scully withdrew a notepad and pen from her coat pocket.

"Sure, Bill Patchet and Randy Wade. The bartender's Tony but I don't know his last name."

"Did you go anywhere after the bar?"

"Yeah. I met up with Trish and we went down to the river to... well, to spend time together if you know what I mean." He leered at Scully.

Mulder tensed, angered by the tone that Dolby was using to address his partner. It was almost obscene. Then something niggled its way through the anger and nudged his mind. "Mr. Dolby, you mentioned Trish, is she your girlfriend?"

He nodded. "Been seeing her for 'bout three weeks now. Sweet little thing, can cook like you wouldn't believe."

"Do you have a picture of her?" Scully glanced sharply at Mulder, confused as to why he would want to know what Dolby's significant other looked like.

"Uh-huh, right here." Dolby reached over to the small table between his and Scully's chairs, pulling open a drawer. Before either agent had a chance to react, he pulled a gun out of the drawer, his left hand grabbing Scully by the arm and wrenching her over to him.

Mulder's weapon was out an instant later and he silently berated himself for allowing such a slip of his defenses. His breath caught in his throat as Scully was pressed up against the larger man, her body shielding him. Dolby put his gun up to her temple, pushing so hard that the skin around the muzzle turned white. A cold knot formed in Mulder's stomach and he had to fight away the panic, taking deep breaths.

"If you don't want to see her brains decorating my upholstery, I suggest you put it down," Dolby ordered.

Never hesitating, Mulder slowly crouched to the floor, placing his gun on the thick carpet. He ignored Scully's eyes, pleading with him not to. But how could he not, with her life at stake?

"Kick it over."

He complied. Dolby reached out with his own foot and caught the careening weapon under his toe. Then he kicked the gun under the couch on his right, effectively eliminating it from being easily acquired. He kept one arm around Scully's neck and pushed her forward a bit, bringing them an inch closer to Mulder.

He reveled in the rage he saw reflected in the agent's eyes. "Clever of you to pick up on that, Agent Mulder. Trish would appreciate the irony. Sadly, she will never have the opportunity. But be comforted by the fact that I gave her the best night of her life before I killed her. Threw her in the river that she loved so much."

"That was a mistake, Dolby. You killed a federal officer, they'll never give up trying to find you now." Mulder held his hands out in front of him in a non-threatening manner.

Scully's eyes widened as she suddenly realized the meaning of what the two men were talking about. Trish. Agent Patricia Cornwall, the absent member of the team. Jesus Christ.

Dolby heard Scully's tiny gasp. "Yeah, I decided I needed an insider to tell me how the investigation was progressing so I started seeing her about a week after my first... stunt. It's pathetic how easy it was, a few compliments, some empty promises, and she was mine. Young and impressionable, that's the way I like them. She was one of those women who liked to talk after sex. And boy, did she talk." He chuckled in remembrance. "All about her job and this terrible case she was working on. How they weren't getting anywhere, how smart the killer was.

"Then she came over one night, all excited. Said that they finally had some leads. All because of some new agents from Washington. I figured I was still safe, I never left any evidence and you two hotshots would end up like the rest. Helpless and hopeless." His grin disappeared. "But last night she told me they were close. Told me about how an Agent Mulder wrote a profile describing the killer, his motives and his lifestyle. I even convinced her to read her copy of the profile to me, the trusting fool." He gripped the gun more tightly, causing Scully to flinch as the muzzle dug into her temple.

Mulder's hands returned to his sides, balling into fists. He would kill this man with his bare hands if Scully was harmed in any way. Seeing her there, stoically enduring this madman's touch, gave him the strength he needed to not give in to his anger. If he acted without thinking he could endanger Scully, and there was no possible way he would allow that. So he stood firm, taking in Dolby's ranting, waiting for any opportunity to disarm him.

Dolby's voice was growing louder, his words shaking with anger. "You stole my thoughts! It's as if you could tell what I was thinking, could read my mind! You invaded me, defiled the purity of my beliefs, twisted them into something evil and then you called me a monster! *You*, in your high and mighty wisdom had the audacity to call *me* a monster? After *you* raped my mind?"

The pressure on the side of her head vanished and Scully watched in horror, time slowing down to a crawl, as Dolby's arm straightened out, the blast from the gun echoing in her ears. She felt her heart stop as Mulder fell backwards, red blossoming from his chest. "No!" she screamed, tearing herself from Dolby's grasp and rushing over to her partner's motionless form.

Dolby remained where he was, arm still outstretched. "Is he dead?" Not that it mattered, he just needed to know in order to make his next decision.

Scully moved a trembling hand to Mulder's neck, praying that she would feel the pulsing of his blood beneath her fingers. She held her breath, afraid if she made any noise that her prayer would lose strength. There! Faint and rapid, but it was there. "He's alive," she murmured in relief.

Dolby heard her and licked his lips, a new plan forming in his mind. "Then you're going to move him. I want to put you two in a safe place until your friends have come and gone."

"But moving him might kill him!" Scully protested.

"I don't have any qualms with *you*, but if you don't obey me I could rethink that. Now do it!" Dolby motioned with his gun, reminding her who was in charge.

She swallowed and moved around to Mulder's head, lifting him up and wrapping her arms around his torso from behind. Dolby was waving her in the direction of the back of the house and she followed grimly, struggling to pull her partner's heavy bulk along the floor. Ten minutes later she was gasping for breath, sweat trickling down her face, but they were finally outside. Dolby walked over to a pair of doors lying at an angle in a mound of dirt. A tornado shelter.

He threw open the doors and nodded to Scully. "Leave him there and get in."

She was about to argue when she remembered his threat. She had no doubt that he wasn't bluffing. Gently lowering Mulder to the ground, she moved over to the dark opening of the shelter and flashed Dolby a look of pure hatred before descending into the blackness. At the bottom of the steps she turned around and waited anxiously as Dolby dragged Mulder to the entrance, throwing him down with one gigantic heave.

Mulder's boneless body slid down the stairs and Dolby slammed the doors shut, plunging them into darkness. Scully heard something metal being slid through the handles as she bent down to feel for Mulder. Finding him, she ran her hands over his body, trying to assess whether his trip down the steps had injured him any further. But the darkness kept her from a more thorough exam so she just hoped that nothing had been damaged and tucked her arms under his shoulders. She pulled him over to the nearest wall, sitting with her back against it and his back against her.

They sat like that for what seemed like hours but in reality was mere minutes, Scully taking comfort in the feeling of Mulder's chest moving up and down, pressing against her slightly. He moaned softly and shifted a bit. "Mulder?"

"Where... are we?" he asked, his voice ragged.

"Tornado shelter in Dolby's backyard."

"You okay?"

Leave it to Mulder to be worried about her well-being when it was he who was injured. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry... about this." Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness and she could see him twisting his shirt between his hands in a guilty gesture.

"It's not your fault, Mulder, how could you have known?" she said, her voice tinged with regret that *she* hadn't known.

"Wonder how long... it will take... Gillis to notice we're missing." He tried to get more comfortable but the movement sent pain lancing down his arms and across his chest. He gasped, freezing immediately and waiting for the pain to abate.

Scully hugged him closer. "I don't know. Try not to move, save your strength."

She could feel him nod. Listening to his labored breathing, she again prayed that Gillis would notice their absence immediately and that he would find them soon. If not, there was the real possibility that her partner would die in her arms. And so she asked, no, pleaded with God to leave His fallen angel on earth a while longer.

* * *

This is continued in Grace Series II: Amazing Grace, please check my page if you wish to continue


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Originally written in 1998. This was a songfic written around the song Amazing Grace. As Fanficdotnet doesn't allow songfics I'm afraid I had to massively edit it to make it work. It's half the length it was and while not especially long to begin with, it is now something I wouldn't post as a separate story and so here I'm adding it as an addendum to the prequel you just read. Yes, prequel. I'd originally written this first and so many people wanted to know what happened prior to this that I had to acquiesce to their demands and expand it into a full story. I apologize if it's a bit stilted but if you go look up the lyrics to Amazing Grace (assuming you don't know them) it will make more sense. Thanks for your lenience. Also, I do not do WIP but this is a set of stories that I may add to someday if the muse strikes me.

* * *

GRACE SERIES II: AMAZING GRACE

She wiped the sweat from his brow, her fingers trembling as they traced across his forehead. She felt the heat on her sensitive fingertips, the fine silkiness of the damp locks brushing his temples. He began to cough, a harsh wet sound that echoed in the darkness. She pulled him closer, her arms wrapped around his torso, his back resting against her stomach, his head pillowed on her chest.

A few moments later and the coughing subsided, the strained wheezing of his breath replacing it. He shifted against her. "Scully?"

His voice was soft, he hadn't strength for anything more than a whisper. She looked down at the top of his head, the bridge of his nose, the long legs stretched out in front of him, her own on either side. "Yes, Mulder?"

He took a deep breath, his chest shuddering under her embrace, a fresh wetness welling up from underneath her arms. "Would you... sing to me?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat, once again unable to stop the tears from escaping. She lifted one hand and ran it soothingly up and down his shoulder. "Of course I will."

Even though she could not see his face, she knew he smiled. She made no remarks on how she was tone deaf, did not ask what he wanted to hear. They were trapped in this dark room, neither help nor escape possible. There was no one to hear her except him. There was no one except him that mattered.

His breathing was slow and shallow, an almost relaxing rhythm to it. She closed her eyes, remembering her life with this man, what he had shown her, what she had learned from him. She parted her lips and began to sing, her voice filled with truth, and began to recite the words to 'Amazing Grace'.

Hands enfolded her own. They were cold and yet their touch set her skin on fire, her pulse quickening. She could feel the thick warm liquid drip across their entwined fingers, the essence of life christening their grasp.

He twisted his neck back so that he could look into her eyes, hazel orbs dark with emotion and pain. As she sang she realized how much the words meant, how much they mirrored what she and Mulder were to each other. It was with him that she truly found meaning, felt that she was more than she had ever thought possible.

He coughed again, only once. But it was more from weakness then from a lack of need. His eyelids drooped lazily, his lips curling upwards slightly. She returned the smile with a sad one of her own.

Through him she had discovered her hopes and dreams, vanquished her fears and realized her truth. She had come to believe in him. In herself. In them, as one.

The pressure against her chest lessened slightly as he lifted his head, bringing their clasped hands to his lips. Exhausted by the simple effort, he fell back into her embrace, his eyes again seeking her own.

Through all her trials and tribulations he had been there. Guiding her to safety. He had brought her hope in times of despair, happiness in times of sorrow, and love in times of loneliness. With him she had found her soul.

Their love would last forever, long past the ends of time, coursing its way through the heavens. Something so pure and true that nothing could destroy it, lessen its strength.

His grip tightened, his cold fingers sliding through her warm ones. He stared into her sea blue depths, smiling softly, and whispered, "Thank you." His eyes closed slowly, his body going limp in her arms.

She bit her lip, not aware of the wetness on her cheeks, of the shaking of her body. She bent over and placed a kiss upon his forehead, cradling him against her as she rocked back and forth, her heartfelt voice filling the dark silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: A search begins for the missing agents, ending in an altercation that may prove deadly for them all.

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't mine, they're Chris Carter's, 10-13's, and Fox's. They're just on loan and I am paying interest. Everybody else is mine, bought and paid for.

Author's Note: Originally written in 2000. Acronyms used: ASAC - Assistant Special Agent in Charge. UNSUB: Unidentified Subject. ISU: Investigative Support Unit. Also, I do not do WIP but this is a set of stories that I may add to someday if the muse strikes me.

* * *

GRACES SERIES III: IN GOOD GRACES

Plainville Police Station  
Plainville, Kansas  
Friday  
2:41 p.m.

"Are they here yet?"

"No, Sir."

"Damn it! It's been over forty minutes! You tried their phones, right?"

Sykes nodded in exasperation. Of course he had, did Gillis think he was stupid? "Look, I don't see why you're so upset. I mean, Spooky isn't exactly a stable guy, he's probably-"

Dan Sykes was cut off mid-sentence as his body was slammed up against the wall, strong hands gripping his shirt front. ASAC James Gillis' voice was quiet, low and dangerous. "You listen to me and you listen good! Mulder is one of the best damn agents I have ever worked with! He has more intelligence and passion for justice in his little finger than you have in your whole body. If you ever, I mean *ever*, imply that he is not worthy of our respect, then I suggest you transfer to a different field office. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir." It came out a whisper.

Gillis released the man and turned around, walking back to the other side of the room they had been using as their command center within the police department. He leaned over and placed his hands on the glossy tabletop, breathing deeply. "All right. What about Cornwall, have we been able to reach her?"

Agent Brahms, who up until then had been standing wordlessly in the corner watching the altercation between the other two men, stepped forward. "We sent an agent over to the motel and got the manager to open up her room. It was empty, no signs of a struggle, nothing out of the ordinary. Her cellphone isn't picking up and her car is missing."

"Shit." Gillis pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. "Okay, let's do this by the book. Send a team of three out to the motel to talk to anyone who might have seen her, follow up on any leads offered." He turned around. "Sykes, perhaps you'd better be part of that group."

Sykes just nodded, knowing that he was in the proverbial doghouse. "I'll get right on it, Sir." With that he left the room, hunting down Chaney and Thornburg so they could try and find Trish. They would be of the same mind as him - that Spooky was off somewhere chasing UFOs. Or maybe he and his pretty little partner were holed up somewhere, all hot and sweaty. He smiled. He'd like to be holed up with Scully any day.

Back in the small room, Gillis was conferring with Brahms. "You have the list of men they were scheduled to interview? Good. Then let's start with the one in the middle. If they've been there, then we try the next two. If they haven't, then we'll go for the previous two. Get Ryan to bring the car around. Let's go." He grabbed his coat from the back of a chair and pulled it on, striding out the door energetically, Brahms on his heels.

* * *

Meanwhile  
9769 Cambury Drive

She shifted the weight in her lap slightly, careful not to jar him too much. Not that he'd notice. She looked down at the man lying in her arms, gratefully watching his chest rise and fall.

"Mulder?"

No response. She hadn't really expected any. He'd lost consciousness about five minutes ago and she had little hope of him waking any time soon. All she could do was put pressure on the wound and keep him as warm as possible.

She glanced at her watch, barely able to make out the numbers in the faint light. Half past two. They were half an hour late for the check in time, Gillis should be pretty antsy right now. He would probably re-interview each of the men on their list to establish whether she and Mulder had been there. Working his way down to the last name on the list. The right name. Unfortunately phone calls wouldn't help speed things up, face to face contact was the only way to tell if the interviewee was lying.

Hopefully the agents ascertained the other suspects' innocence quickly and made it here in haste. She prayed that Mulder would be able to wait. He had lost so much blood, the bullet still inside of him causing God only knew what kind of damage.

Not long after they'd been thrown into this dark shelter she realized that Dolby hadn't confiscated her cellphone. Her jubilance didn't last long. The walls of the tornado shelter were far too thick for a signal to get through, especially since her battery was only half charged. Desperate, she had decided to try Mulder's in hopes that his would have more power.

Whether it had or not she would never know. The phone was shattered inside his coat pocket, victim to the same bullet as he. After that she realized the only thing left for her to do was wait. Until Dolby came back to finish them. Until Gillis arrived with a rescue team. Either one took time.

Scully leaned her head back against the cool concrete, pulling Mulder's body closer. It was time they didn't have.

* * *

Plainville Police Station  
2:47 p.m.

"Hey Randy, you seen Agent Gillis?" The officer who had just come through the door headed straight for the FBI's command center.

The one sitting behind a desk, feet resting on its surface, mouth full of a bagel, shook his head. "You're not gonna find him in there. Him and his boys left 'bout five minutes ago, must've just missed 'em. Why? Whatcha got?"

Lieutenant Jack Thomas cursed under his breath. "We've got another body, same MO as the Wrangler. Two boys found a woman's body washed up on the bank where they were going fishing. I was hoping they'd be able to find some evidence on her that'd help them catch this guy."

Randy swallowed the last bit of his bagel, slurping some coffee loudly. "They all got them fancy cellphones, why dontcha call 'em?"

Jack smiled broadly. "Sometimes, Randy, you're not as stupid as you appear to be."

* * *

2:52 p.m.

Assistant Special Agent in Charge Jim Gillis was sitting in the passenger seat of a blue Ford Taurus, his fingers drumming impatiently on the leather dashboard. Agent Ryan was seated next to him, prudently exceeding the speed limit by fifteen miles an hour. In the backseat, Agent Brahms was shuffling through some papers, his eyes bright and eager.

Brahms leaned forward between the front seats. "Sir? Agent Mulder's profile say that the UNSUB is a manipulator, someone who lies easily and believably. How are we to know whether any of the suspects are telling the truth when they tell us that Agent Mulder and Scully have or haven't been there?"

Gillis' fingers never stopped their staccato beat. "I'll just know."

Scott Brahms chewed on his lip for a moment. This was his first field assignment and he wanted to make sure that he was going about it the right way. He respected his ASAC and was always sure to follow his orders to the last letter. Gillis was a twenty year veteran of the Bureau, Brahms trusted that the older man's instincts would find the clue.

He went back to studying the profile on their killer. He was fascinated by the insight that Agent Mulder had, putting together what appeared to be random clues into a cogent idea of what made the UNSUB the way he was. And how to find him. It was like a window into the killer's mind. It was like words from the mouth of a prophet.

Brahms had been brought up through the Academy on Spooky Mulder stories. That he had the highest solve rate in the history of Behavioral Sciences, could write accurate profiles with scanty evidence, and actually became the killer in essence. How he could solve a case in minutes, saw little green men everywhere, and how he and his partner were intimately involved. Of course these last few he was less inclined to believe. Meeting the ISU legend in the flesh was a bit intimidating.

But over the past week, Brahms had seen why the rumors were what they were. It was like watching a ballet, a well-choreographed dance that Mulder performed at the crime scenes. The profile was everything he imagined, amazingly in depth, based on few clues, and written while Mulder was flirting with the killer's thoughts. Brahms had witnessed how badly it affected the profiler, how his physical and mental well-being had dangerously declined.

That was where the other rumor came in. Agent Scully. She cared for her partner, he could see it in how her worried gaze sought him out constantly, affirming whether he was okay or not. And the way he looked at her? Scott could see it in his eyes, that Mulder would do anything for her. They were closer than any other pair of partners that Brahms had ever seen. They could have an entire conversation without words, could predict each other's thoughts and actions. It was a connection.

Scott sighed. He wouldn't be assigned a partner for a while yet but he could only hope that he would be able to form so strong a bond. Drawing himself from his reverie, he remembered where they were headed and hoped that it was all for naught, that the X-Files team was safe. He skimmed a few more lines on the paper in his hand and bent forward to ask the ASAC another question.

Before he could open his mouth a phone rang. Everyone reached for their pockets instantly, halting their movements when Gillis said, "It's mine." He flipped open the cellphone and announced himself.

The voice on the other end was loud and tinny. "Yeah, this is Lt. Thomas. We just pulled a body out of the river, looks like your guy was at it again."

Gillis grimaced, assuming the worst. "Do you have an ID yet?"

"Nope. Female, about 30 to 35. I haven't been down to the scene yet, thought I should call you folks first."

"Thanks Lieutenant. We were on our way to interview some men, we'll stop by until another unit gets there." Gillis decided that if it was the corpse of Dana Scully, then Mulder's would surface next. There was no way he would let Scully go without a fight. "Where is this?"

* * *

3:16 p.m.

"Scully?"

"Hmmm?" She had been surprised and simultaneously relieved when Mulder regained consciousness a few minutes earlier. He remained in her lap, his body shuddering every now and then with spasms of pain.

"You know, I'm red... green color blind."

She blinked. Yes, she knew, what did that have to do with anything? "Uh huh."

"They look... like a muted brownish to me. But your hair has... always been the richest shade of red."

She smiled at that. "Maybe because you know what color it's supposed to be, your mind supplies the right hue." It was a guess, she had no idea why her hair, but nothing else, would be red to him.

"I'm grateful for that. I would have... hated to miss that." He twisted a bit to stare up at her, gasping as his body was jarred. His hand lifted upwards and he ran trembling fingers across the bottom fringes of her hair.

A tear escaped and ran down Scully's cheek. The way he had spoken made her heart drop into her stomach. She took the hand and squeezed it gently, "Mulder, you can't give up hope."

"Gillis... should have been... here already. Something... has happened." He was pausing more often, the effort of talking was taking its toll.

"Shh, you don't know that. I'm sure they'll be here any minute." But deep down she knew he was right. Something *had* happened.

* * *

3:22 p.m.

"God damn it!" The dull thud of a fist hitting the dashboard was loud in the silent car. Ryan swallowed nervously, keeping his eyes on the road, not daring to look at the enraged ASAC.

"How did this happen?" It was a rhetorical question. No one knew how, because it wasn't supposed to happen.

Brahms scrubbed his face, not wanting to allow his tears to come. He had seen his share of bodies in the past month of investigation, but this was different. This was someone he knew.

They had arrived at the crime scene to find it swarming with local police, some of whom he recognized. Scott had searched out the body right away, wanting to discover if it was Scully or not. When the coroner pulled back the yellow flap of the body bag relief washed over Brahms. The woman was blonde. Being bloated and dirty from its sojourn into the muddy river, it had taken a moment to see past the condition.

That was when horror replaced relief. It *was* the body of an FBI agent. Special Agent Patricia Cornwall. He unceremoniously lost his lunch a second later. He was thankful that Gillis didn't appear to notice. The ASAC was on the phone, calling Agent Sykes to tell him to get over here. The forensics team had shownm up a minute after that and soon there was nothing to do. They would look for clues and Sykes' group would follow up on them.

So now they were back in the car, heading for their previous destination. Scott was desperately trying to get past the shock, to put it behind him so he could focus on his job. But he couldn't. All he could think of was how he and Trish had been laughing together yesterday. She was telling him about this guy she was seeing, how interested he was in her career. It wasn't often that she found a man who wasn't intimidated or resentful of her because she was a woman in a predominantly male job.

Eager to impress him, she had told him a few things about the case they were working on. Brahms was a bit leery about this, knowing it was against protocol to talk about a case to civilians. But he was the new kid, he didn't want to be branded as untrustworthy or a brown-noser. So he'd kept his mouth shut.

Now he wasn't so sure he had made the right decision. Had she talked to her boyfriend in private or in a public area? Could the killer have been close and overheard them? Oh no. The boyfriend. Someone was going to have to call him and tell him the news. Scott made up his mind that it was he who should do the deed, to call... what was his name? Ron... Rick...Ray. That was it, Ray.

He pulled out the piece of paper that listed the five names of the men they were going to interview and wrote itd at the bottom so that he wouldn't forget. All he needed was a last name. Shouldn't be too hard, this was a fairly small town, there could only be maybe a dozen guys named Ray and fitting the description she'd given him.

Suddenly something struck him. It took a moment for him to pinpoint it. The name above his scrawl was Raymond Dolby. Ray. "Holy shit! Stop the car!"

Agent Ryan slammed his foot on the brake and the vehicle came to a screeching halt. Luckily the road was deserted and no accidents were caused. Gillis twisted around in his seat, his face a mask of surprise. "What is it, Brahms?"

"Sir, yesterday Trish, Agent Cornwall I mean, she told me that she was seeing someone named Ray and that she had discussed the case with him. Sir, the last name on this list is Raymond Dolby." He knew he could get in big trouble for his duplicity in keeping Trish's breach of protocol a secret, but lives were at stake. Screw his job.

Gillis' jaw dropped open and his face purpled over in rage. "She did what?" Suddenly he shook he is head. "Never mind, it doesn't matter now, but you and I will have a talk later about this."

"Yes, Sir," Scott mumbled.

"Ryan, get this car turned around and head for-" he paused to look at the paper, "9769 Cambury Drive."

* * *

9769 Cambury Drive  
3:37 p.m.

Dolby stood by the window, the curtain drawn back slightly so he could see the road. They were coming. He chuckled in the back of his throat and turned away. He had tucked the gun in the back of his jeans, covered by his baggy flannel. If they caught him with it he was doomed, but he counted on his superior intelligence to keep him safe. They were idiots, he could fool them so easily.

A knock sounded on his door and he sauntered up to it, ready to play his part. He pulled it open, a questioning look plastered across his features. "Can I help you?"

The oldest man stepped forward. "Are you Raymond Dolby?"

"Sure, why don't ya'll come-"

"Mr. Dolby you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder."

"What?" he squawked. This wasn't exactly how he'd planned it. He started backing away from the three federal agents.

Gillis followed him, making sure his hands remained in plain sight. They didn't really have much evidence to arrest this guy but procedure be damned. He knew in his gut that Dolby was the killer, plain and simple. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney."

Dolby had backed far enough into his house that he was able to dodge into another room in a flash, leaving the trio of agents standing in the entrance. Gillis looked at Ryan and flicked his eyes to the right, signaling for him to go around and try to flank Dolby. To Brahms he whispered, "You're with me." Louder, he continued his earlier line of conversation. "If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

Edging his way towards the opening into which Dolby had disappeared, he took the classic Weaver stance. Counting silently to three he whirled himself into the doorway, his gun aimed at the middle of the room. He jerked to the side as bits of plaster and drywall exploded next to him when a bullet slammed into the doorjamb. Throwing himself aside, he managed to fire blindly into the room long enough to provide cover. A few feet away, Brahms was cringing against the wall, his gun trembling inches away from his face.

"Do you understand these rights as I have said them?" Gillis yelled, just to get a rise out of Dolby.

"Fuck you and your rights!" Another shot came through the door and embedded itself in the bottom of the stairs.

"Did you hear that? Those were gunshots!" Scully strained her ears for any other noise that might give her a clue as to what was happening outside of their prison. "They're coming, Mulder, they're coming."

The walls were too thick, she could only hear the ragged breathing of her partner.

He crouched down next to the door and peeked around the corner. He could see Dolby's back as the man hid behind the couch, his gun held firm in his right hand. Now came the hard part.

Doug Ryan thought of his wife and baby daughter who were safe at home in Kansas City. If this didn't work out, he hoped they would understand someday that it was because he couldn't allow the killer to go free, that this was his job.

He took a deep breath and lunged around the corner. "Freeze! Drop your weapon!"

Dolby's head whipped about to stare at the agent behind him, weapon trained at his chest. He closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. "Shit" was all he said before he released his own gun and raised his hands into the air.

Ryan didn't move from his position, instead he shouted, "I've got him, Sir!"

Gillis appeared across the room instantly and strode over to his agent. "Good work." Then he moved next to Dolby and kicked the gun out of the killer's reach. He drew out his handcuffs and snapped them onto Dolby's wrists in a practiced maneuver "You've already been read your rights so I'm not going to repeat myself." He yanked on the cuffs, forcing Dolby to stand.

"Now, where are Agent Mulder and Agent Scully?" he demanded.

Dolby spat on the carpet. "Kiss my ass, you government pricks."

The force of the blow that struck him in the jaw toppled him back onto the couch. Gillis stood over him, his face set in stone. "I'm only going to ask you one more time-"

"Sir!" It was Brahms, who was still out in the hallway. "Sir! I've found something!"

Gillis glanced at Ryan and nodded in a silent order to watch the suspect. After Ryan had Dolby covered, he hurried back out to where Brahms was crouched on the floor, the corner of a floor rug in his hand. "What is it?"

Peeling the rug away from the hard wood, Brahms revealed a thick reddish brown stain smeared into the boards. Gillis blanched. "All right, I want you to call the paramedics and then I want you to get Sykes over here with that forensics team. Brahms, are you hearing me?"

The younger agent had grown pale and his eyes were unfocused. Gillis' hand on his shoulder served to snap him back to reality. "Yes, Sir." He reached into his coat and groped for his phone.

Gillis shoved the long rug aside and followed the trail of blood into the back of the house, coming to a sliding glass door that looked out into a dreary backyard full of weeds and litter. In the middle of it all was a mound of earth, two large doors mounted atop it. A tornado shelter, common accessory to those in Kansas. But usually they didn't have crowbars in the handles to prevent anyone from getting out.

He slid open the back door so fast that the glass rattled in its frame. He raced over to the shelter and grabbed the crowbar. "Brahms, get out here!"

Scully heard *that*. It was ASAC Gillis, thank God! "Mulder, he's here! It's going to be okay, they're here!"

Her partner didn't move.

"Mulder? Mulder!"

When the entrance to the shelter was thrown open light streamed down onto the pair of agents below. Gillis was halfway down the steps when he paused, taking in the scene before him.

Mulder was laying on the ground, blood covering his clothes and staining the dirt around him. Also drenched in the thick red liquid was Scully, her hands and chest dripping with it. But it was obvious which one was injured.

The one receiving CPR.

Brahms heard Gillis yell from the backyard and shook his head, as though the person on the other end of the phone could see him. He was really getting sick of this conversation. "Shut up, Sykes! I don't give damn what you think! You are under orders to bring a forensics team here and that's all there is to it! So get your lazy ass in gear!" He stabbed the end button with his forefinger. Not as satisfying as slamming down the receiver would have been, but it would have to do.

He'd surprised himself with his anger but it restored his sense of purpose and now he moved through the house quickly and with a lot more confidence. He emerged into the backyard and took a moment to locate Gillis. The ASAC's head was poking out of a hole in the earth, his hand waving back and forth. Jogging over, Scott came down the first few steps of the shelter.

He had been prepared to find one of the missing agents injured, the blood was obvious enough of that, but for some reason he couldn't have imagined that it would be so bad.

He froze in place and watched in morbid fascination as Scully compressed Mulder's chest, her mouth moving down to breathe air into her partner's lungs. Mulder's head wrenched to the side and he began to cough, blood decorating his chin.

Gillis spoke again. "Go back and stay with Ryan. When the paramedics get here, send them out." Not bothering to reply, Brahms scrambled up the steps and into the house. He didn't want to be near all that pain.

It was but three minutes later when the EMTs arrived, Sykes and his team not far behind. Scott directed them to where Gillis was waiting, staying with Dolby instead of going with them. Sykes came in, Thornburg, Chaney, and the forensics guys in tow.

Ryan took that as his cue to finally take the suspect down to the station and toss him in a cell. Brahms elected to go with him, feeling a need to be useful.

The team began their procedures, cordoning off the crime scene, the flash of a camera lighting up the room, notes taken quickly. They all stopped momentarily as a gurney was wheeled through, laden with a fellow FBI agent, partner alongside and ASAC following. Sykes swallowed hard. He'd heard that someone was hurt but he figured Spooky'd just got a scratch or something.

Faced with reality, he turned around and pretended to be absorbed by a bullet hole in the wall. He made a silent promise to be a little more open-minded in the future.

* * *

J.P. Bailey Memorial Hospital  
4:23 p.m.

The ambulance ride had been a nightmare, Mulder vacillating between delirium and unconsciousness, going into cardiac arrest just as they pulled into the ER unloading bay. Rushed into the emergency room, he'd been revived with two tries of the defibrillator. The doctors then stabilized him as well as they possibly could and then sent him upstairs to the surgeons.

Scully was waiting again. She hated waiting.

She hardly noticed when someone sat down next to her. "How are you doing, Dana?"

She blinked furiously, the fuzzy shape at her side coalescing into a solid form. "Sir?"

"I was hoping for something a little more descriptive." Jim laid his hand on hers. "He's going to make it, you'll see. He was in good health before..." Gillis trailed off, remembering how Mulder had stopped eating and sleeping. "Well, he'll make it just so that he can gloat and tell us all he was right."

Scully smiled sadly. "Thanks."

Gillis leaned back, settling into the plastic chair. Together they waited.

* * *

7:44 p.m.

Scott Brahms walked down the hallway, his shoes clicking loudly on the polished tile. Dolby had been processed and was now resting 'comfortably' in the county jail. Sykes and Forensics had finished up the crime scene and were all celebrating the end of this hellish case. But Brahms couldn't celebrate with them. There was an uneasy air hanging above the party, none could forget that one of their own was dead, another critically injured.

He came to the room of his destination and took a deep breath. He pushed open the door. There were three people inside, all of them asleep. Mulder lay in the bed, numerous machines hooked up to him, each emitting its own distinctive blip or whir. Scully was on his right, the guard rail lowered and her head pillowed on crossed arms next to him. ASAC Gillis was on the left, reclining in an uncomfortable looking chair.

Scott tiptoed in, deciding that if he came all the way down here he should at least come in. He stood at the foot of the bed, his hands in his pockets, his lips pressed in a firm line.

"Agent Brahms?"

He jerked, his breath whooshing out of him. "Sir, I thought you were asleep," he whispered.

Gillis shook his head then motioned at the hallway. He rose and they both left quietly. "Is there something you needed, Brahms?"

"No, Sir. I just wanted to... I mean, I thought that if... this wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for me."

Gillis raised his eyebrows. "Am I to understand that you feel this is your fault? That if you'd informed anyone of Trish's... misconduct, that this could have been avoided?"

Brahms stared at the floor. "Yes, Sir."

"Bull shit." Scott's head snapped up at the ASAC's words. "Even if we had that knowledge, we still would have had to send someone out to interrogate him. They might have given away that they knew something and he would have gotten more violent, killing those agents. Luckily, Trish is the only casualty, sad as it may be.

"You are a good agent Brahms, I wouldn't want to see this ruin your career. What do you say we keep yours and Trish's conversation between us? I'll talk to Ryan and let him know."

"Sir, I... I... thank you, Sir."

"Don't make me regret it, Brahms." He slapped the young man on the back. "Now, what do you say we get some food, I'm starving."

Scott broke into a huge smile. "*Yes*, Sir."

* * *

8:13 p.m.

Scully woke up suddenly, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. She looked around to find a pair of hazel eyes on her. "Hey," she said softly.

"Hey." It was barely a whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey. Looks like we made it."

"Yeah, looks like it." Her eyes grew misty and her throat constricted. "But it was too close this time, Mulder. I almost lost you." Her voice cracked on the last word.

His hand searched hers out and grasped it gently. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Scully suddenly laughed, though it sounded strangled with emotion. "Yes, I'm fine. It's you who's in the hospital. The bullet just missed your lung, Mulder, a millimeter to the right and you'd be playing a harp right now."

"You really think they'd let me past those pearly gates, Scully?"

"With your luck, Saint Peter would be on vacation that day. But you're not going to have to worry about that anytime soon. The doctors predict a full, if slow, recovery. You must be in God's good graces, Mulder."

"If this is what being in His good graces feels like, I'd rather not be." He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

Scully was instantly all concern. "Are you in pain? I can get the doctor to give you more medication."

"No. I don't want to sleep just yet. Will you just stay her with me for a while?"

"Sure, why don't you close your eyes. I'll be right here." He complied and she reached up to caress his forehead lightly.

He drifted off a minute later, soothed by his own personal angel. Scully continued to caress him long after he was aware of it. "Sweet dreams, Mulder."


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: While recovering from his injury, Mulder runs into a few unnecessary problems.

Disclaimer: The X-Files belong to Chris Carter and 10-13 Productions, no infringement intended.

Authors Note: Originally written in 2000. Also, I do not do WIP but this is a set of stories that I may add to someday if the muse strikes me.

* * *

GRACE SERIES IV: GRACE NOTE

 _Grace Note: A note not necessary to the melody, added only for decoration._

J.P. Bailey Hospital  
Plainville, Kansas  
Friday, 9:33 pm

"I hope whoever invented coffee is in heaven right now."

"Amen to that."

Dana Scully flashed a haggard grin at the man sitting next to her. "You should go home, Sir, there's no need for you to stay.

Assistant Special Agent in Charge Jim Gillis peered down his broad nose at the diminutive woman before him. "I got you both into this mess, I intend to see you all the way through it."

"It's not your fault, Sir. This is our job, these are the risks we take. You know that."

He sighed loudly. "Yes, I do. And you're right, it's no one痴 fault but Raymond Dolby's." He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. "Listen, why don't you call me Jim? I think that it's pretty safe to say that the investigation is over."

Sadness crept into Scully's eyes and she was about to reply when a nurse came into the room, heading straight to the machinery surrounding the patient. Crouching down, she examined a box shaped object on the ground. She squinted her eyes, wrote on a clipboard, fingered a few tubes and wrote some more. Straightening up, she lifted the stethoscope from her neck and placed it against Mulder痴 chest. Another notation, a nod at the two visitors, and then she left.

She had been in about an hour before and had done the same thing. Gillis eyed the contraption that seemed to be the focus of the nurse's scrutiny. It was a plastic box, about the size of a cereal box, composed of several chambers and attached to something on the wall. A tube snaked out of the box and ran into the left side of Mulder's chest.

He glanced at Scully and motioned towards the equipment, "What is all that, and why does the nurse keep coming in here?"

Scully looked surprised by his question. "Why?"

"I'm an investigator, I am naturally curious." His voice took on a more serious tone, "Besides, I want to know if I should be worried or not."

"Don't worry, it's normal procedure after a chest surgery. Mulder has a single left pleural chest tube and that's attached to the Pluerevac. That's the box that the nurse was looking at, it lets fluids drain from the chest without letting air get back inside. See that column? It is where the drainage goes to and it's calibrated so you can see how much you are getting. The nurse was measuring the drainage. She'll do it hourly for a while, then less frequently until the drainage stops."

"Then what?"

"Then what what? Oh, when the drainage stops? Then they'll remove the chest tube and we'll go from there. It'll be a big step on Mulder's road to recovery."

Gillis sipped at his coffee thoughtfully. "You've been here before."

"Excuse me?" Scully's left eyebrow inched up.

"Not in this hospital, but in this situation I mean. Mulder in a hospital bed, you by his side, wondering if this is it."

Scully's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes. Yes I have. Every single time is one too many. It's not that Mulder is clumsy or accident prone, it's just that his sense of self-safety is a bit... underdeveloped." She shook her head at the ASAC's look of alarm. "I'm not saying that he is suicidal, though he has made me wonder on occasion. What I mean is that Mulder doesn't feel like his life is worth much compared to the greater good, that he has no second thought of risking himself if it will save another life or uncover a truth." She let out a long breath and glanced affectionately at the form in the bed. "My knight in shining armor."

Gillis snorted. He knew what Scully was talking about, had experienced it first hand back when Mulder was a full time profiler. He doubted whether Scully would have admitted such a thing to anyone who had not already made the same observations. "His armor is looking a bit dented to me," he said under his breath.

* * *

Saturday  
9:32 am

"You're doing great, Mulder, just a little farther. There you go." Scully's voice was an interesting mixture of concern and encouragement.

Mulder settled himself into the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. "How long do I have to stay like this?" It was a hidden admission to the pain he was experiencing.

Scully thanked the nurse who had helped her get her partner moved from the bed to the chair before answering. "Only about an hour. We need you to change positions because there may be some blood that won't drain when you are lying down."

"Well, now that I'm up, how about you tell me what happened since the tornado shelter?"

Scully pursed her lips. "I don't think we need to talk about the case right now." She sighed at the look of condescension on his face. "All right." She sat in a chair next to him and took a moment to arrange her thoughts.

"Well, Gillis found out that Trish was seeing someone named Ray and that he was privy to confidential aspects of the case. They showed up at Dolby's house and all hell broke loose. Luckily no one was injured and they managed to take him down without shooting him. Bastard is going to have to stand trial. The death penalty is legal in Kansas, lethal injection. And he is one over the minimum of murders needed to be sentenced.

"Anyway, Brahms found the... blood stain... running to the back yard." Here Scully paused to swallow the lump in her throat, remembering how much blood her partner had left behind on the wooden floor. Mulder reached over and took her hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. She smiled in thanks. "They followed it to the shelter and the rest you can pretty much figure out."

"Did they find Trish?"

Scully nodded mournfully. "They pulled her body out of the river just before they arrived at Dolby's. It's such a shame, she was a promising agent."

"But she broke one of the most important rules - she gave vital information to a civilian. Don't look at me like that. I know I am not exactly the picture of protocol, but I have *never* divulged details of a case to unauthorized people. Too much can go wrong."

"True. We're living proof of that. But I can understand where she was coming from. She was a woman in the 'Boy's Club', she needed to have someone recognize how hard she worked. Hey, I didn't say it was right, I just said that I understand her position."

"She endangered the lives of her fellow agents. She put *your* life at risk. I cannot forgive her for that."

Scully was taken aback at the vehemence in Mulder's voice. His words finally sunk in and she shook her head in disbelief. "What about you, Mulder? You're the one who almost died out there."

He looked away uncomfortably. "It's not the same thing."

"Why not?" He continued to stare at the wall and she reached up to put her hand under his chin, turning it to face her. "Why not?" she repeated.

He couldn't meet her eyes. "It just isn't."

"Mulder, look at me." He reluctantly complied. "Why is my life worth more than your own? Do you think that you deserve to die?" Mulder closed his eyes, not willing to answer.

"That's it, isn't it? You think that you have somehow committed so many wrongs against others, that your life is forfeit. Mulder, you have to stop blaming yourself for everything. You are not God, you cannot expect to be responsible for events out of your control."

When he opened his eyes, they were glistening with unshed tears. "I know, It's just that... Scully if... if he hadn't decided to aim that gun at me..."

That was when Scully understood. Dolby had aimed the gun point blank at her head, there was no way she would have lived if he had fired. Mulder, on the other hand, was shot in the chest, giving him a chance at survival. For the greater good.

"Oh Mulder." She rose from her chair and knelt in front of him, drawing him into her arms. "Don't you think I would have felt the same way if *you* had died?"

She could feel hot tears against her neck, the soft flutter of his eyelashes against her skin. "Mulder, promise me that you won't ever sacrifice yourself for me."

A quiet sob was muffled by her shoulder. "I can't."

She began to rock him back and forth, her hand rubbing his back soothingly. "Shhh, it's okay, I know. I couldn't either."

* * *

11:21 a.m.

Jim Gillis was balancing a tray of coffee and sandwiches in one hand and a stack of folders in the other, briefcase clutched precariously under the pile of papers. He had promised both himself and the DC agents that he would see them through to the end, but the responsibilities of an ASAC could not be ignored. So he compromised. Armed with cellphone, forms and pamphlets, and food, he was ready to face the day.

None of this could have prepared him for the scene he happened upon just outside of Mulder's room. He could hear the argument even before he turned the corner to find Dana Scully almost nose to nose with a doctor. Which was amazing in itself, considering that the female agent was a good head shorter than the bespectacled doctor. Interestingly enough, she wasn't the one yelling. In fact, her voice was even and controlled, projecting a sense of both authority and anger. The doctor was the one protesting loudly.

"There is no such indication that there is anything to be concerned about!"

"If you will remember, I am a medical doctor and I think it is too early."

The doctor took on an air of superiority. "I am well aware of your credentials, Dr. Scully. But I think that, since the majority of your patients are *dead*, I am significantly more qualified to make decisions regarding Agent Mulder's condition."

"What is going on here?" Gillis used the tone he reserved for reprimanding an underling.

Both antagonists turned to him, bewildered, not having realized that he was there. Scully recovered first.

"Sir. Dr. Evenrude thinks that it is time to remove Mulder's chest tube, since the drainage has stopped. I believe that it tapered off too quickly and that it's probably clotted. I want him to get a chest x-ray to check for an accumulation. If it *is* clotted, we might be able to use an ebolectomy catheter to remove the clot so the tube can drain again.

Gillis latched on to the word he understood best among the other clinical jargon. "Clotted?"

Evenrude spoke up, trying to regain his sense of control over the situation. "A collection of blood that has consolidated and is too large to be drained. However, there is no evidence pointing to Dr. Scully's conclusion. The time elapsed since Agent Mulder's surgery is sufficient enough to have allowed for complete drainage. I think that perhaps Dr. Scully is a bit too close to this to be objective."

Scully sputtered angrily and her face grew dark. "I suppose you could consider ignoring all other possibilities as non-objective."

Gillis sighed and rubbed his eyes. He didn't need this. "All right. Scully, do you think it is *plausible* that Dr. Evenrude is correct?" He raised a hand as she started to protest, "Consider it medically, not emotionally."

Scully bit her lip, her eyes downcast as she realized that Gillis was right. She had been thinking with her heart and not with her head. "Yes, it's plausible."

The doctor smiled haughtily until Gillis turned to him. "And do you concede that a clot is possible, based on your experience?"

Evenrude sniffed in disdain. "Remotely possible."

"Okay, then we'll agree to disagree. Now, since we seem to be at a stalemate, why don't we get a second opinion from someone at little more versed in medicine than I?"

A few minutes later, after Evenrude had consulted with another attending surgeon, they made their way to Mulder's room.

* * *

Muffled voices and annoying beeps were the first noises to filter into his subconscious. He tried to ignore them, to drop back into the warm safety of sleep. But he couldn't ignore the soft voice or the small hand on his forearm.

"Mulder, wake up."

His eyes fluttered open. "Scully?"

"Hey there. We're going to take out the chest tube now, it's stopped draining. This isn't going to be pleasant, so I want you to squeeze my hand if it hurts too much."

Mulder was fully awake now. He nodded his head in understanding. Grasping her hand, he watched the doctor make a few preparations. This consisted of removing the dressing, cutting the sutures that held the tube in place, and turning off the suction to the Pleurevac.

Evenrude solicitously asked his patient if he was ready. Mulder inclined his head in response. "Here we go. Take a deep breath and let it go. Now take a deep breath and hold it."

Mulder felt a slight tug at his chest, some pressure building up inside of him. Then came the pain. If felt as though one of his lungs was being ripped from him. He slammed his eyes shut and tried with all his might to not crush Scully's hand.

Scully felt Mulder's grip on her tighten and saw him cram his eyes shut, the tendons in his neck straining as he clenched his jaw. He paled drastically and beads of sweat appeared on his face. "Almost done, you're doing great," she assured him.

"All finished, you can breathe again," Evenrude proclaimed as he held up the tube, a fairly large blood clot at the end. Scully knew that this wasn't unusual, but she still had her reservations about removing the chest tube at this time.

"Piece of cake," Mulder muttered, his voice shaky.

"Okay, we're going to put some dressing on that and change the dressing on the surgical site as well. We'll give you an hour to rest a bit before we get you out of bed again."

"Oh joy," was the grumbled reply.

* * *

12:41 p.m.

Mulder eyed the plastic column suspiciously. "Do I have to do this?"

"Yes, you do."

He frowned at his partner. She had that look - the one that meant if he didn't do as she said, he would regret it for years to come. He sighed and took the thing from her outstretched hand. "What do I do with it?"

"It's an incentive spirometer, for breathing exercises. Just inhale through the mouthpiece."

He did as told, placing his mouth over the opening at one end and tried to draw in a deep breath. He couldn't. He tried again, this time only succeeding in bringing on a coughing fit.

Once he finished, he tried one more time, if only to ease the look of concern on Scully's face. He gave up after that.

"I can't do it," he said angrily, dropping the spirometer in his lap. He didn't want to do this right now, all he wanted was to crawl back in the warm bed and sleep. He was cold, his muscles ached, his chest hurt, and it was hard to breathe deeply.

Scully picked up the device, her brows furrowed. Mulder was acting strangely; he was snapping at everyone, his patience short and his temper increasing. He was breathing fast, short shallow breaths. She placed a hand on his forehead, startled at the heat emanating from him. Checking the monitors, she found her suspicions confirmed. He was spiking a temperature and his pulse ox was dropping.

"C'mon, let's get you back into bed. I'm going to have a few words with Dr. Evenrude."

Mulder was more than willing to follow that order.

Gillis had left after Mulder's chest tube came out, realizing that he needed some notes that were saved on his laptop. He had now returned, laptop in hand, and was heading back to his agent's room. Before he turned the corner he could hear voices raised in anger and he sighed in frustration. Would those two ever stop?

He addressed them just as he stepped up. "What is it this time?"

Scully was first again. "Something's wrong. Mulder's temp is up, he can't take deep breaths. I was asking Dr. Evenrude if maybe they had missed something when they did the surgery."

"And I told Dr. Scully that nothing was overlooked. I am going to decrease Agent Mulder's pain medication because that's what is depressing his respiration." Evenrude sounded offended that anyone would question his knowledge after he had been proven right on taking the chest tube out.

"All I'm asking for is an x-ray to exclude any other possibilities," Scully insisted.

"Radiology is booked for the next hour."

"Then get a portable."

"They're all in use."

"How do you know that, I just asked?"

"Because-"

"Enough!" Gillis glared at both doctors. "You're arguing like children." When they both looked contrite, he continued, "Dr. Evenrude, don't you think it is in the patient's best interest that you rule out all other diagnoses before jumping to conclusions?"

Evenrude nodded slowly. "I'll call for a portable, but I can't estimate how long it will take to get here." He strode off before anyone could say any more.

Scully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Thanks, Jim. If that pompous SOB kept at it like he was, I don't think I could be held accountable for my actions."

Gillis feigned a fearful expression. "Where's your weapon, Agent Scully?"

She waggled her eyebrows and grinned evilly.

* * *

2:16 p.m.

Evenrude stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes focused on the x-ray in front of him. "There it is, right there. It's pretty low compared to where the chest tube was, probably couldn't drain properly." He turned to the woman standing to his left. "Dr. Scully, I must apologize for my behavior. You were right all along."

Scully didn't say 'I told you so', even if she was thinking it. "No Doctor, I understand. I remember what it is like to work thirty-six hour shifts on nothing but coffee."

Evenrude smiled. "It's a truce then."

Scully found Gillis in Mulder's room, watching the sleeping man take shallow, rapid breaths. He turned when he heard her footsteps on the tiled floor. "So?"

"There's a clot. We have to take him up to the OR to clean it out."

"Is it going to cause any problems?"

"I don't think so, I think we caught it soon enough. We won't know until after the surgery."

"Does Mulder always have this kind of luck?" Gillis smiled to make sure Scully understood that he was joking.

"If there's any possible way to complicate things, Mulder will find it." Scully smiled back.

* * *

3:28 p.m.

Dr. Evenrude emerged from surgery, his tired eyes quickly finding the pair of FBI agents. "Dr. Scully, Agent Gillis."

Scully was on her feet instantly, practically bouncing on her toes in her eagerness. "Well?"

"Everything went smoothly. There was a little bleeder, but we tied it off and evacuated the clot. His hematocrit is good and I think it's pretty safe to say that he'll have a full recovery. Now, I am going home to take a shower and get some sleep. I suggest you do the same, Dr. Scully."

Evenrude shook hands with them both and then disappeared down the hallway. Gillis watched him go, a neutral expression on his face. "Good thing too, that man *needs* a nap."

Scully couldn't help the giggles that bubbled forth.

* * *

4:37 p.m.

It was amazing, the difference a few hours of sleep could make. Mulder woke up feeling much better than before. He could breathe easier and the pain had diminished somewhat. He lay there for a few moments, relishing the sensation. It took him a while to realize that he wasn't in the same room that he had fallen asleep in.

He looked to his left and found Scully staring at him, a warm smile lighting up her eyes. "Hi, sleepyhead."

"Where am I?"

"We found a clot and you had to have surgery again. Remember that consent form you signed?" He nodded, recalling Scully shoving a form under nose and him signing it without reading. He certainly trusted her enough that he figured whatever she wanted done for him, he would agree to. "I swear, Mulder, if that doctor hadn't finally come to his senses, I would have held him at gunpoint until he took the x-ray."

"I don't doubt it," he chuckled.

A nurse came in then, acknowledging them with a nod. "Hi, I'm Nurse Conway. I'm here to check out Mr. Mulder's condition." She smiled at the patient. "How are you feeling, Mr. Mulder?"

"Fine."

Scully snorted and Mulder shot her a withering look.

"Do you remember where you are?" the nurse asked.

"Hell." Now the withering look came from both women. "Sorry. I'm in J.P. Bailey Hospital in Plainville Kansas, United States of America, planet Earth."

Nurse Conway laughed appreciatively as she checked his pulse in both wrists and ankles, watching the clock on the wall. The stethoscope came on again and she listened to his chest and belly. "Everything is looking and sounding good, you can have some ice chips now."

After Mulder greedily swallowed the ice flakes that Scully spooned into his mouth, the nurse continued her examination. She took one of his hands in each of her own. "Squeeze for me. Good! Your grip is equally strong bilaterally, that's great. Now," she flipped up the blankets on the end on the bed to reveal his feet, "wiggle your toes."

She frowned momentarily. Lifting up his right leg, she instructed him to bed it at the knee. After doing so to her satisfaction, she repeated the gesture with his left leg. It didn't move.

Now, both Mulder and Scully had matching frowns. He tried again, concentrating on his knee. Nothing. He shot a panicky look at Scully.

"Now try moving the leg as a whole."

He did so, his body shaking with the effort. When she asked him to move his right leg, he complied with ease. This did nothing to assuage his fears.

Laying a hand on his foot, the nurse asked, "Can you feel my touch?"

"No." Mulder's voice was nothing but a whisper.

She moved her hand higher, just above the kneecap. "What about here?"

"Kinda, but it feels sort of numb."

Nurse Conway recovered Mulder's legs and made a few notations on her chart. "I'm going to talk to the doctor, I'll be right back, okay?"

Mulder turned to Scully. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. You may just be experiencing some weakness, that's all."

"But in just *one* leg?"

Scully swallowed nervously.

* * *

5:56 p.m.

Evenrude took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. An hour and a half of sleep. Why did he always get the difficult patients? He had been woken up from a blissful slumber by a phone call requesting him to return to the hospital. Upon arriving he had been told that Agent Mulder had loss of strength and a decrease in sensation a quarter of the way down his left leg.

So he'd gone over the data he had, tests, x-rays, and numerous papers, consulted their resident neurologist, and now he was sitting down in a plastic chair next to the stubborn FBI woman. Agent Mulder was lying in the bed next to them, his attention focused on Evenrude. The surgeon gestured towards the man he had brought with him. "This is Dr. Dickson, he's our neurologist on staff."

The agents nodded at the newcomer.

Evenrude replaced his glasses and shuffled the papers in his lap. "Here's what we've come up with. There are three possibilities: One, the clot was pressing on one of the arteries coming off the aorta that feeds the spinal cord. Two, there was an interruption of the blood supply to the nerve from the disrupted artery in the second surgery. Either way leads to ischemic damage to the nerves. Three, the clot might have been compressing the nerve itself.

"Now, we believe that this is only temporary, and with physical therapy you will regain full mobility. It is going to take time and a lot of hard work, but your chances are good."

Relief washed over Mulder's feature but soon turned into dismay. "How long are we talking about here?"

"It depends on how bad the damage is and how committed you are to the exercises that the physical therapist assigns. It could as little as a few weeks up to a couple months."

"Thanks," Mulder said dejectedly.

"Well, I am going to go home and go back to sleep. If you have any questions, just ask Doctor Dickson."

Scully thanked him also and told him how much she appreciated all the help he had given them. He just grunted and walked out the door, almost running into Jim Gillis on his way out.

Dickson glanced at his new charge. "Any questions yet?"

"Not right now," Scully answered for the both of them.

"All right, If you do come up with any, just ask Nurse Conway, she knows how to find me." The neurologist sidestepped Gillis and went on his way.

"Hey there, Mulder, you're looking good. How ya feeling?" Gillis took in the atmosphere and realized that he was the only one smiling. "What's the matter?"

Scully took the initiative. "There's been some nerve damage and Mulder only has partial mobility in his left leg. Evenrude believes that it is temporary and Mulder will be back in the field in a few weeks to a few months."

"That's good news, so why does everyone look like it's the end of the world? It could have been worse," Gillis pointed out.

"True." Scully heaved a big sigh. "Looks like it's back to Quantico for me until you're back on your feet, partner."

Gillis cleared his throat. "If that doesn't appeal to you, I could always use an extra hand here."

Mulder finally spoke up. "Yeah, Scully, you'd be great in a field office. You're chances of promotion will go way up and you'll be in mortal danger a whole lot less than when you're with me."

Gillis heard the bitterness in the agent's voice and decided that was his cue to exit, stage right. "I'll leave you to discuss it, be back in a few hours to check on you both."

Scully laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. "Thanks, Jim, you've been a real source of support."

"Anytime, Scully. See you 'round, Mulder." Then he left in search of a taxi. Back to the office - there was no rest for the weary.

The second the ASAC was out of hearing range, Scully whirled on her partner. "What was that comment about? Are you telling me that you don't want to work with me any more? That I would be safer if I wasn't with you? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I *want* to work with you? You aren't forcing me to stay, I make my own decisions.

"Don't use your disability as an excuse to allow me to leave you, Mulder. Because I won't. Your search for the truth is as much mine as it is yours. No, I wasn't there in the beginning, but I have been there for the past five years and I intend to be there until we find that truth. That is *my* choice. I may not believe in extra-terrestrials or paranormal phenomena, but I *do* believe in you."

Mulder listened to the heartfelt speech his partner was making and he had to struggle to keep the tears back. "Scully I... Thank you. Thank you for being more than my partner. Thank you for being my trust, conscience, co-conspirator, and my friend. I promise you that I will never forget all that you have given me. I can only hope that I return it all in full."

Scully stood up and leaned over, brushing his hair from his forehead and placing a chaste kiss there. "We'll get through this, Mulder. We've got one hell of a support system already, might as well put it to good use. Whatever it takes to get you back on your feet, I'll make sure you get it."

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "All I need is you."


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: Finally things seem like they're turning around for Mulder and Scully. Until someone unexpected shows up and wreaks havoc in their lives.

Disclaimer: The X-Files belong to Chris Carter and 10-13 Productions, no infringement intended.

Author's Note: Originally written in 2000. Acronyms used: UNSUB - Unidentified Subject. EMT - Emergency Medical Technician. GWU - George Washington University (Hospital). Also, I do not do WIP but this is a set of stories that I may add to someday if the muse strikes me.

* * *

GRACE SERIES V: SAVING GRACE

Sunday  
7:13 p.m.

"Ouch! Damn it, I hate this thing," Mulder mumbled under his breath. He tossed the hated item on the couch and flopped down next to it. Nudging the cane over, he reached across to the coffee table and grabbed the remote. He flipped on the TV to CNN and leaned back into the cushions, glancing at his watch.

Seven-fourteen. Scully was late. He hated waiting. If there was one thing Fox Mulder wasn't, it was patient. Well, that wasn't quite true. He was willing to wait for suspects to resurface, clues to come to light, victims to give their statements and for little children or the elderly. He could handle waiting as he drove for five hours to a case, sitting in Skinner's office as the AD vented on their latest mishap, or long nights on a stakeout. Of course, if someone's life was in danger, all bets were off. But that certainly wasn't the case here. He had no problems waiting for Scully, he would wait for her until the end of time, so he wasn't annoyed with *her* specifically. He hated waiting when there wasn't anything to keep his mind busy, nothing to occupy him.

His eyes flicked to the cane lying next to him. And what he had the least patience with was his own body's rate of healing. It had been almost three weeks since he was discharged from the hospital and he was still dependent on his cane for mobility. The doctors had said that it would take a few more weeks before he would have full use of his leg. At least they were allowing him to return to the office, though only for light work. That was why Scully was taking him out to dinner tonight - to celebrate.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the reporter's droning voice. Speak of the devil. Pushing himself up off the couch and grabbing the cane, he hobbled over to the door. Turning the dead-bolt and opening the door with a bit of difficulty, he said, "I was starting to get worried, what took you so-"

Scully was standing in front of him, face flushed, hands balled into fists, breath smelling of alcohol, red hair disheveled, and wearing very rumpled clothes. A hand flashed up and grabbed Mulder roughly by the collar, propelling him back into his apartment. Mulder stumbled as he was forced to backpedal quickly, pain lancing up his leg as he put his full weight on it.

"What-" He didn't even get to finish his question before a harsh voice interrupted.

"You think you can just waltz in, take over my family's life, put my sister's life in danger, and expect me to just stand by and let it happen? You really believe that she wants to be with you? Hell, she just feels sorry for you, running around chasing lights in the sky and crying about your long lost sister to anyone who'll listen. She feels guilty about leaving you because she's loyal to a fault, but if you would just let her go, maybe Dana could make something of herself!"

Mulder tried to wet his dry throat. "Bill, you're drunk, you need-"

"Don't you dare tell me what to do! And I know what I need; I need to see you kneeling on the floor, begging me for forgiveness. I want you to tell me that you are sorry for the pain and suffering you have put my family through and then I want you to let Dana go." Bill Scully prodded the other man with a pointed finger as he outlined his wishes.

"Listen, Bill, if you want me to apologize, then I'm sorry. I feel guilty every single day for bringing Dana into the X-files and for what it has done to her. But I am also grateful every single day for exactly the same thing. I have told her to leave me a thousand times and she keeps telling me that she is with me because she wants to be. I-"

"Bull shit," Bill spat. "Let's decide here and now which one of us is going to have her. Prove to me that you're not the coward I always took you for and fight me!"

"Christ, Bill, I'm not going to fight you! Dana is not some object that you can just pass ownership of her around! She's her own woman who makes her own decisions. I care about your sister very much and I sure as hell am not going to fight you to prove anything. Call me a coward if you want, but Dana is too important to me and if that means my manly pride being injured, then so be it." Mulder stood as firmly as he could, his expression one of calm surety.

Bill's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't give a damn about your pride; I am doing this because I love Dana."

Careful to put as much strength into his next words as possible, Mulder said, "So am I."

A look of confusion crossed Bill's face, quickly changing to shock as he realized what Mulder was saying. For a moment it looked like the FBI agent had gotten through the alcoholic haze over Bill's brain, but it was only for a moment. The navy officer's expression clouded and his eyes burned with hatred, his body trembling in rage. "Noooo!" he screamed, hand snatching the cane from Mulder's grasp and raising it above his head. Mulder tried to move out of the way, but he no longer had any support and could only manage an awkward retreat.

The cane swept through the air and connected with the side of his head with a loud crack and suddenly he found himself on the ground, staring at the wood grain of his floor. A heavy weight slammed into his left side on his lower ribcage, interrupting his efforts to stand. Several more swift kicks followed, Bill grunting with the force he put behind them. Mulder had to work through his muddled thoughts to form a coherent sentence. "Bill... agh... stop!"

The agent's words only seemed to infuriate the other man more. Bill brought the cane, which until then had been forgotten in his hand, down on Mulder's lower back, splintering the hard wood. Mulder gasped at the pain that radiated from the point of impact and desperately tried to crawl out of Bill's reach. The bigger man gave a hysterical laugh and pinned his victim to the ground with a heavy boot on the same spot he had broken the cane on. Grinding his heel in Mulder's back, Bill actually appeared to revel in the sounds of pain the agent was making.

Once he was sure that Mulder wasn't going anywhere, Bill added a few more kicks to the downed man's ribs for good measure. Through the hollow ringing in his ears, Mulder could hardly make out what his attacker was saying. "Don't...ver come... my sister... you sorry son... itch." Suddenly two strong hands rolled him over and hauled him into a sitting position so that alcohol-drenched breath was just inches away. Mulder's head exploded at the movement, his ribs and back crying out in agony. "You hear me? I want... let her go or... kill you myself."

Mulder blinked hard against the blood running into his eyes and the darkness threatening to swallow him. Bill's face wavered in and out of focus, his features contorting in ways that were making Mulder nauseous. He groaned as he shut his eyes to block out the sight and Bill must have taken that for an answer because he released his hold on Mulder's shirt and let the injured man fall back onto the floor. The collision of the back of Mulder's head with the ground was the final straw. The last thing he heard was the slamming of his front door and Bill's footsteps fading away.

* * *

Sounds returned slowly; the tick of the clock, the gurgle of his fish tank, the voices from the television all grew in volume until they came together to bring Mulder back to consciousness. He brought his arm up to his throbbing head and felt the stickiness of blood. Looking at his hand, Mulder moaned softly and pushed himself upright with extreme difficulty. The room showed little evidence of the fight, the cane discarded against the wall and a small pool of blood where his head had been resting were the only two telltales of what had just happened.

Thought processes hindered by what was certainly a concussion, Mulder could only comprehend the fact that Scully would show up at any minute. He had to get cleaned up or she would be angry with him for not being ready even after she had given him extra time by being late. He looked dazedly about him for something to wipe up the blood with and saw nothing within reach. He decided that he would have to use whatever was most available - his shirt. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, whimpering softly as the muscles of his torso burned with pain. The simple effort left him gasping for air and every breath caused his chest to constrict tighter. He dropped the shirt over the scarlet puddle and waited for the room to stop swirling.

Then, sluggishly and painfully, he pulled himself to his feet, clutching the wall for support. He half staggered-half dragged himself into his bedroom and then to his bathroom, using every piece of furniture to make his way there. Finally in the bathroom, he leaned forward against the sink and turned on the water. It was getting harder to think and he was gasping for breath, his body quivering with the struggle to keep him standing. All of a sudden there was a knock at the door and he turned his head quickly in response. The movement sent fire behind his eyes and he collapsed onto the cold tile, his mind registering that it must be Scully.

And he still wasn't ready.

* * *

Dana waited patiently for a few moments, glancing at her watch again. She knocked a little harder this time, calling out to her partner. "Mulder, you in there?" No response was forthcoming, so she decided that he was probably in the bathroom and couldn't hear her. She took out her key to his apartment and soon had the door open. She stepped inside the gloomy apartment and shut the door behind her. Didn't the man believe in lights? She moved forward, noticing a dark blue shirt lying on the floor. She sighed disgustedly. Men.

She wandered into the living room and, finding that it was empty, moved on to the bedroom. Upon entering, she heard the water running in the bathroom and the door was slightly ajar. Ah hah. "Mulder? Hey, sorry I'm late, there was a bad accident on the freeway and we were detoured around practically the entire city." She sat down on the bed and leaned back on her elbows, continuing to speak loudly so that he could hear her. "I tried calling, but I forgot to charge my cell. I haven't had to use it much, what with you being gone and all."

There was no answer from the direction of the bathroom and Scully wondered if her partner was mad at her. "I really am sorry, I hope you weren't worried. Listen, I'm definitely going to make up for it with dinner tonight. Does Italian sound good? 'Cause I'm taking you to the best Italian restaurant on the East Coast."

Still nothing but the shooshing of water. Something in the silence set off the alarms in her mind. She pushed off the bed and headed towards the bathroom. "Mulder, you okay in there?" she asked as she tapped lightly on the door. "Mulder?" She tried opening the door some more but there was something blocking it. She shoved harder and was rewarded when the door opened enough for her to poke her head inside. Doing just that, she was shocked to find that the object blocking her entrance was the prone form of her partner.

"Mulder!" she exclaimed, driving herself against the door so that there was room for her to get through. The tiny bathroom seemed to be filled with his sprawled body, blood staining the sink and the floor beneath him. His legs were behind the door, his upper body between the sink and the toilet. Dana crouched down beside him and her fingers frantically sought the pulse point on his neck. It was there, rapid and unsteady, but there. She got up and dashed out of the room, almost diving over the bed to reach the telephone on the end table. She dialed 911 and gave them the address, adding 'officer down' to add to the urgency of the situation.

Finished, she hurried back to Mulder's side. He was lying at an angle, his back tilted towards the floor and his arms over his stomach. A quick look at his head revealed that he was bleeding from a wound on his left temple and the odds of his not having a concussion were nil, but there didn't appear to be any trauma to his neck. Scully felt his arms to make sure nothing was broken, then moved them so that she could check his back. She was greeted with a large bruise that was steadily darkening into a purplish black shade. Leaning over, she discovered that the bruise continued around his ribs and spread across his back. Gently checking for spinal injuries, she ruled out the danger of moving him.

Pushing on his left shoulder with one hand and pulling on his right with the other, she managed to roll him onto his back with a minimal amount of effort. She counted his pulse again then checked the dilation of his eyes - definitely concussed. She opened the cupboard beneath his sink and grabbed a clean washcloth, using it to mop up the blood covering his face while murmuring to him. "Mulder, I'm here, please wake up. I promised Italian and I know how you love manicotti, so why don't you open your eyes and yell at me for being late." She felt a pang in her heart when she realized that if she had not been late, then Mulder wouldn't be lying here broken and bleeding. She wasn't there to watch his back. A wave of guilt threatened to overwhelm her but suddenly a thought occurred to her. Mulder was attacked. This was a crime scene. "Mulder, I'm going to be right back."

A quick call to the FBI and she had a team on its way over to deal with the scene. She returned to sit with her partner and had been there for approximately three more minutes before there was a banging at the door. She reassured Mulder before leaving him and then hurried to let the paramedics in. She updated them on his condition, mentioning that the apartment was the scene of a crime and they were to disturb as little as possible. Having been used to removing victims from crime scenes, the EMTs simply nodded and went about their business. They loaded Mulder onto a gurney and bustled him out of the bathroom, informing Scully that they were taking him to GWU. She nodded shortly, torn between wanting to follow and having to stay until the FBI unit arrived.

She stood in the hallway until the elevator doors closed and then she turned and went back into the apartment. It was then that she again noticed the shirt on the floor. Nudging it with her toe, she saw that it was covering a puddle of blood. She pulled her foot back quickly and turned in a circle, surveying the room. She found the cane lying against the wall, broken almost in half. It appeared like she had found the attacker's weapon. From what she could tell, the UNSUB had hit Mulder on the head with it, knocking him semi-conscious, and the proceeded to beat her partner senseless. She hoped that the cane had broken on something other than Mulder's head or else there might be some serious brain damage. What bothered her was why she had found Mulder in the bathroom; his missing shirt left sopping up a pool of blood?

She didn't really want to think about it, let the FBI team deal with it. As though her thoughts materialized, the room suddenly began filling with agents from the crime scene unit. Quickly briefing the team leader on what had happened and her subsequent conclusions, she was out the door and waiting impatiently for the elevator. Checking her watch, she discovered that almost ten minutes had passed since Mulder had been taken to the hospital. Looking again at the floor indicator, which still rested at Floor One, she swiveled on her heel and plowed through the door to the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, she tried to focus on the fact that her partner was being taken care of and not to worry that she wasn't with him this time.

Besides, he was probably still unconscious or else so out of it that he wouldn't even notice her absence.

* * *

Ambulance 402  
En Route to GWU

"SCULLY!"

"Hold him down, he's going to rip the IV right out!" Cory shouted, grabbing the flailing arms of his patient.

"Damn it! Took me forever to get it in, don't let him lose it." Cory's partner, Gina, finished hanging an IV bag. "Okay, that's one liter saline in him and another one hanging. You got him?"

The other paramedic was holding on to the struggling patient, talking soothingly to him. "Come on, Buddy, don't do this to me. Calm down." Cory glanced across the ambulance at Gina. "Yeah, he's starting to quiet down but he's still tachy and his breathing is rapid. Blood pressure's beginning to come up."

"Good. Let's get him on oxygen, sixty-percent by face mask," Gina ordered as she inspected the bruises along Mulder's side. "Looks like we're dealing with some broken ribs but no pneumothorax evident."

"He might have had one a few weeks ago. Take a look at this." Cory pointed at the long pink scar decorating Mulder's upper chest.

Gina's eyes followed her partner's finger. "Thoracotomy and pretty recent too." Her eyes traced several other scars that had long since healed. "This boy's been around the block a few times already."

"Must be a popular guy. What's he do for a living, night clerk at the Stop-and-Rob?"

With a shake of her head Gina laughed a bit. "No, remember the doctor lady who met us? She's FBI, so's he. Must be 'in the line of duty' stuff."

Cory did another check of Mulder's vitals. "A bona-fide hero right here in our bus? Damn, wait'll I tell my kids."

Gina chuckled. "Yeah, but they'll never believe you. Remember the time you tried to convince them that we had the President ride with us once?"

"He *was* the President!" the big man insisted. At his partner's condescending look he finally gave in. "All right, so it wasn't *the* President, but he was an impersonator who did a really good job."

"Cory, the man had a heart attack while doing a show for the kids in the park, I don't think he was enough of a look alike to perform for more mature audiences."

"Whatever." Cory waved his hand in dismissal. "Still, you can back me up, tell them about the FBI man here?"

"Sure. The same FBI man who has been trying to tell us something for the past five minutes while you jabbered on," Gina interjected. She leaned closer to the patient. "What is it, Honey? What are you trying to say?"

Mulder was tossing his head, muttering incoherently through the oxygen mask. "Scully, don't... no, don't do this... can't... Scully..."

"Who's Scully?"

"The FBI lady, his partner. Don't you pay attention?" Gina focused on Mulder." It's all right, Honey, she's on her way, she'll be with you soon," she murmured.

"Think maybe the blow to the head is making him delirious?" Cory offered.

"Possibly. Let's hope that it's just a bad concussion and he's still neurologically intact. Probably the shock talking."

Nodding, Cory called up to the driver, "How much longer?"

"ETA in two minutes," was the reply.

He scrunched his eyebrows in thought. "Think we should write down what he's saying, take a statement or something? He was attacked and the police will want to talk to him, he might be saying something important."

Gina couldn't help but laugh. "You're always looking to make things bigger than they are. He's calling for his partner, not identifying his attacker."

Cory looked disappointed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

* * *

George Washington University Hospital  
8:09 p.m.

Dana arrived just in time to find Mulder already situated in a room and a woman with a lab coat standing by his bed, clipboard in hand. "Dr. Shirley?"

The woman turned, offering a smile. "You must be Agent Scully." At Dana's raised eyebrow, the doctor explained, "One of the nurses told me that if Mulder was here then you wouldn't be far off. You two seem to have a reputation."

Scully nodded grimly and moved to her partner's bedside. He had the standard IV, an automatic blood pressure cuff on his arm, and was receiving supplemental oxygen. He was hooked up to an EKG, a Foley catheter, and pulse oximeter, but none of the other instruments that indicated a life threatening injury. Laying her palm lightly on the side of his bruised face, she asked, "How is he?"

Shirley hugged her clipboard to her chest. "We're waiting for the lab work to come back. We ordered a CBC and chem 7, did a cross match and got a urine sample. As soon as we get them, we're sending him up to radiology for x-rays on his head, chest, and pelvis, and a total body CT scan. From the bruising on his chest and back, we are concerned about his kidneys as well as the condition of his previous injury. No, don't worry, it doesn't look like the effects of the last surgery have been undone. All we can do now is wait, so I suggest you pull up a chair and settle in."

Scully's mouth was slightly open. "You're going to let me stay? Usually the doctors insist that I go back to the waiting room."

"What can I say?" Shirley shrugged, "You have a reputation."

* * *

9:42 p.m.

"Dana. Dana, Honey, wake up."

Scully's head slipped off of her hand and her head jerked up. "Mom?" She blinked rapidly to clear away the fuzziness around the edges of her vision. "Mom, what are you doing here?"

"Well, if you don't want me here, I could always leave," Margaret chided jokingly. She sat down in a chair next to her daughter. "I needed to get a hold of you and when I couldn't reach you I tried Fox. An FBI agent answered the phone and told me what happened so I came as soon as I could. Bill wasn't home yet so I had to make sure that Tara and little Matty were all settled in."

It took a moment for Scully to register her mother's words. "Bill's here?"

"Yes, he came up for some hearings on Naval base funding and is staying with me. I didn't tell you about it because you were away on a case when I found out and then Fox was injured and every time I saw you I was so eager to hear about his progress that I forgot to tell you."

"I'm glad you forgot. Last thing I needed was any more stress," Dana said sulkily.

"Dana Katherine, if I didn't know any better I'd say that you were angry with your brother." Maggie raised an eyebrow in a way that demonstrated which parent Scully had received that particular trait from.

"He treated Mulder terribly last time they were together, Mom. He blamed Mulder for everything bad that has happened to me and he calls me every week to try and persuade me to quit the FBI. He thinks he can run my life and I'm sick of it."

"Have you told him so?"

"I've tried but he just won't listen. He has it in his head that Mulder is forcing me to stay with the X-Files against my own free will and I can't change his mind no matter what I say." Dana sighed, her eyes drifting to the clock on the wall. She suddenly stood up and started pacing. "What's taking so long?"

Margaret ignored the sudden switch in subject; she would file it away for later discussion. "Is Fox in surgery?"

"Yes. He was stable but his condition worsened just as they finished the CT scan. They found out that his kidney was bleeding rapidly and had to repair it surgically. Add to that two broken ribs and a concussion and Mulder's got himself another nice stay in the hospital." She stopped her pacing and stared down at her feet. "Sometimes I wonder if..." she trailed off.

Maggie stood as well and moved to her daughter's side. "Sometimes you wonder if what?"

Scully pursed her lips, refusing to meet her mother's eyes. "I wonder if Mulder would be safer if I left the X-Files."

Maggie drew back in surprise. "Why ever would you think that?"

"Well, half the injuries he sustains are from protecting me. Mom, it's been on my mind constantly since he was shot. He purposely took that bullet to protect me because he believes his life is forfeit to mine and when I asked him about it later, he refused to give me a straight answer as to why he feels he deserves to die. He almost died saving my life; what if next time he doesn't make it?"

Maggie wrapped her arm around Dana's shoulders. "Honey, come sit down, I want to explain something to you." They walked back over to the chairs they had vacated and sat. Maggie faced her daughter, their knees touching, and laid her hands over Scully's. "Dana, I want you to think back over the past five years that you have been Fox's partner. He's been injured a lot, I know, but how many of those times would he have died if you hadn't been there? You have had such an impact on his life and you don't even realize it.

"Fox is a complicated man, as I'm sure you know, who is trying so hard to keep everyone he cares about safe that he neglects to take himself into account. It's the way he is and there's no changing that; it makes him the empathetic man that is special to us both. The more he cares about someone, the more he tries to protect them. Dana, if you decide to leave the X-Files because you don't want Fox to be injured so badly that he dies, you are fooling yourself. He might be safer physically for a while, but he would eventually get himself killed. And he wouldn't care because he would already be dead inside."

Dana was staring at her mother, trying to process the meaning behind Maggie's speech.

"Honey, don't you understand what I'm telling you? Don't you know why Fox thinks your life is worth more than his?" Maggie couldn't help the tiny grin that formed as she watched her daughter shake her head in confusion. Sometimes her children could be so dense. "Dana, Fox loves you."

* * *

Margaret Scully's Residence  
Monday  
7:32 a.m.

Jesus Kee-rist! It felt like a freight train was rumbling through his head. With a loud grunt Bill rolled over and opened his eyes, the bright light from the window sending sharp counterpoints to the bass drum in his skull.

Never again. He would never get drunk again. He couldn't remember what had happened after he left the bar and then he had slept badly, plagued with odd dreams that seemed a mixture of nightmares and fantasies. Now he had the mother of all hangovers and his mouth tasted like something died in it.

He slowly sat up and looked around the room. Where was Tara? He swiveled his legs off the bed and pushed himself into a standing position, grimacing when he realized he was still wearing yesterday's clothes. Stumbling into the bathroom he began to clean himself up. Showered, teeth brushed, and hair combed, he finished up the task with a quick shave. As he dragged the razor across his skin his mind wandered back over his strange dream. He had gone over to see Fox Mulder and had beaten the pathetic excuse for a man with a cane. He'd forced Mulder to apologize and threatened him with death if he ever went near Dana again.

Being a firm believer that dreams were simply a reflection of life, without deeper meaning, Bill tried to reconcile his nightmare. It was easy enough, since he had thought about Mulder more than once since he arrived for the conference. He hated Mulder for what the man had done to his family and always wanted to do what his dream had depicted. Wishes played out at night, that was all. One thing bother him though - where did the cane come from?

Dismissing the thought, Bill put some aftershave on and then went in search of his wife. He found her downstairs in the kitchen, feeding Matty breakfast. "Morning, Honey, where's Mom?"

Tara didn't look up from her task of spooning cereal into the toddler's mouth.

"Tara?" Still no response. He stood directly across the table from her, placing his hands on his hips. "Did I do something wrong?"

"I don't know, did you?" Tara's words were ice.

Bill shook his head. "What do you mean?"

His wife let out a long exasperated sigh and set down the spoon with exaggerated care. She turned to her husband, her eyes fiery. "You don't even remember, do you." It was a statement, not a question. "I have asked you time and again that you quit drinking, that you stop getting so wasted that you can't remember what you did. You are out boozing and brawling until all hours of the morning then you come home and expect me to be okay with it? I've had to go down to the base brig three times now to get you out of the drunk tank because you'd started a brawl. For God's sakes, we're staying with your mother and you still can't behave like a responsible adult!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Bill shouted, ignoring the fact that Matty was beginning to cry.

"You got home at 3 in the morning, Bill. You dropped your jacket by the door and then came upstairs and passed out in bed. When I picked up your jacket this morning it had blood on it. I know it's not yours, I checked." Her voice was steely as she turned her attention to her son. "Shh, Matty, it's okay, Sweetheart.

"It's a good thing your mother wasn't here, or you would be excommunicated from the family."

"Where is she?"

"She had to go to the hospital last night to be with Dana." Tara's expression softened slightly as she saw the look of panic on Bill's face. "She's all right, it's not Dana who was admitted, it was her partner." Tara expected to see the usual face of contempt Bill wore when Mulder was mentioned but was surprised to find that he was instead wearing a face of shock. The color had drained from his face and he began to sway. All anger melted away and Tara was next to her husband instantly. "Bill, are you okay? What's wrong?"

Bill blinked several times and had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could speak. "We have to get to the hospital."

* * *

8:54 a.m.

"Mmmf."

"Mulder?"

This time the groan was louder. "God, my head hurts."

"Just be glad you still have the opportunity to feel it hurt." Scully leaned over and placed a hand on his cheek. "Other than that, how do you feel?"

"Like I got run over by a Mack truck. What happened?" He tried to sit up but the pain in his back forced him to remain still.

Dana's smile faded. "I was hoping you could tell me. What is the last thing you remember?"

Mulder closed his eyes and took a deep breath, searching his memory. "I was watching TV and there was somebody at the door. I thought it was you so I answered it and Bi- a big guy wearing a ski mask was there. He grabbed my cane, whacked me upside the head with it and then proceeded to kick the ever-living shit out of me, if you'll pardon the expression. It gets really hazy after that but I remember thinking that I had to clean up before you got there so I managed to make my way to the bathroom. I must have lost consciousness soon after because that's all I can recollect."

Dana nodded at several points during his description as some of her questions were answered. "I had a team go over your apartment, check to see if we could get anything from your attacker. They're very optimistic about evidence on the cane."

Mulder's eyes widened slightly and he swallowed nervously. "I... um, I doubt it. I'm pretty sure he was wearing gloves."

Scully noticed her partner's hesitation but didn't call him on it. "Who do you think it was? Past case?"

"Maybe." The response was quiet and thoughtful.

They sat together in silence for a few minutes before Scully cleared her throat. "Mulder, I want to apologize."

His brows came together. "For what?"

"For not being there when you needed me. If I hadn't been late then none of this would have happened." She reached over and clasped his hand with her own.

"It wasn't your fault, Scully, there was no way either of us could have known. It's not like we're on a case or out in the field."

"I know, but still I-" a sound behind her made her turn. "Mom, come in, look who's awake."

"Fox, I'm so glad to see you're doing better, we were so worried about you." Maggie sat down next to her daughter, smiling at the man in the bed.

"Don't worry about me, I'm used to this by now." Mulder chuckled and then winced in a combination of pain and the realization that his joke was too on the mark to be funny.

Scully's face darkened. "That's something I want to talk to you about, Mulder."

Margaret stood and offered the agents another smile. "I'll leave you two alone; be back in about half an hour." She shut the door behind her as she left.

Scully turned back to find Mulder slumped farther down in the bed, as though he knew what the impending conversation was about. She decided to put him out of his misery. "I wanted to ask you something that has been bothering me ever since the Wrangler case. You deliberately drew Dolby's aim. Yes, it was off of me and I can understand that you didn't want me to be shot, but I don't understand why you didn't have any qualms about yourself.

"We've been partners for over five years now and I know that we count on each other to watch our back or to come to the rescue if needs be. That's what partners do - they look out for each other. What they do *not* do is willingly put their own life at risk in a foolhardy attempt to save the other without even the slightest chance of survival."

"But-" Mulder started.

"No, I'm not done yet. Yes, you did survive. This time. But Mulder, this is not the first time that you have put your life on the line in order to save me and I have no doubt that it will not be the last. I wouldn't be worried if you showed some speck of self-preservation in the process, but as far as I can tell, you don't give your own safety a second thought. What if next time is the last?"

Mulder's eyes were downcast and his fingers were twined in the sheets. "You risk yourself for me, too."

"Yes, but the difference is that I risk my life with the knowledge that there is a good possibility we'll both make it out alive. Making a known serial killer take his gun off you and aim it straight at me, when I'm wearing no Kevlar and have nowhere to go, is not what I call a good possibility."

When no response was forthcoming, Dana softened her tone. "Mulder, I just want to know why you put so little value on your life."

Raising his eyes to meet hers, Scully was shocked to see them shimmering with moisture. "I..." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "I can't lose you."

It was no more than a whisper but Dana heard the pain behind his statement. "Oh, Mulder." Her own voice was choked with emotion.

Mulder closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I don't disregard the value of my life. In fact, I would do anything in my power to keep it safe. Don't you see?" He looked back at her. "*You* are my life."

This epiphany, paired with her mother's earlier declaration, was enough to leave Dana stunned. She leaned forward and enfolded Mulder's hands within her own. "Mulder, I-"

Before she could continue, the door opened and someone entered the room. Out of sheer automatic response after years of conditioning herself to keep her feelings for her partner hidden, Scully let go of his hands and leaned back in her chair. Her guilt only lasted a second when it turned into surprise at seeing her brother standing in the doorway. Glancing back at Mulder to see his reaction, she was shocked to find fear in her partner's eyes. It was so fleeting that she could almost pass it off as her imagination. Almost.

She got out of her chair and walked over to her brother, looking up into blue eyes that mirrored her own, searching for any clue as to why Mulder reacted the way he had. All she found there was more fear. What the hell was going on?

"Dana, Mom wants to talk to you."

Scully's head jerked back slightly at the tone in Bill's voice. "About what?"

"I don't know," he answered shortly. "She's in the cafeteria and sent me to sit with Mulder while you're gone."

Dana scrunched her eyebrows together and deliberated over this for a moment. Then she turned back to her partner. "Mulder, I'll be right back, okay?"

He nodded, only taking his eyes off Bill for a second. Scully gave both men one last scrutinizing look before heading out the door.

Silence reigned for a few seconds until Bill slumped into the chair his sister had vacated. "So, what happened this time, Mulder?"

An eyebrow raised. "I think you know perfectly well what happened."

Bill's eyes closed and a grimace passed across his face. "Damn. I was hoping it had been a dream."

"Me too."

Bill opened his eyes and stared at the man in the bed. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Nothing." Mulder waited until that statement sunk in before continuing. "I told Dana that I was attacked by a man in a ski mask."

Blue eyes widened in shock. "Why would you do that?"

Mulder sighed, wincing slightly. "Because I know that your sister and your mom would be very hurt if they knew the truth. Your family wouldn't be the same again. I won't let that happen." He paused to take a breath. "You're right, Bill. I have caused your family a lot of pain in the past. I would do anything to take it all back, to bring Melissa back and make it so that Scully never had cancer. But I can't do that. All I can do is make sure that I don't cause them any more pain. I love your sister, Bill, and I refuse to let this tear her family apart."

For once in his life, William Scully Jr. was at a loss for words. Finally, after long minutes of stillness, he spoke. "You really love her, don't you?"

"Yes, Bill, I do."

"Well then, that is your one saving grace."

* * *

12:38 p.m.

Mulder was sleeping peacefully in his hospital bed, drugged into painless slumber, while Dana sat by his side, reading a thick novel. Maggie had gone home with Tara and Matty for a nap and something more edible than hospital cafeteria food. Bill had elected to stay to keep Dana company and was currently trying to find a decent cup of coffee.

Mulder's kidney hadn't hemorrhaged since the surgery, his concussion and broken ribs would heal in time, and he had confessed his love to her. All was right with the world. Well, as right as it seemed to get in her and Mulder's convoluted lives. Scully was daydreaming about her planned response to Mulder's confession, the book in her lap forgotten, when someone clearing their throat startled her.

She twisted around in her chair to find two FBI agents standing just outside the doorway. She gave Mulder a quick glance to make sure he was still asleep before joining the agents. "I'm sorry, but Agent Mulder is sleeping, you're going to have to come back later if you want a statement."

The taller agent, one Scully recognized as John Wiesnicki, shook his head as Dana spoke. "I'm afraid we're not here to get Agent Mulder's statement. We got the results on the fingerprints taken from the cane."

"And?"

"Perhaps we should go somewhere quiet, so as not to disturb Agent Mulder," the other agent, a Michael Woodsburrow, offered.

"Why? What did you find out? Whose fingerprints were they?"

"Agent Scully, where is your brother?" Wiesnicki prompted.

"What does my brother have to do with this?" Scully demanded, her voice getting louder with frustration. Suddenly the meaning of Wiesnicki's question dawned on her. "Oh my God."

The two visiting agents gave Scully a minute to assimilate her revelation. "Do you know the current whereabouts of your brother, Agent Scully?"

She looked around as though confused by the question. "Um, yeah. He... he went for some coffee. He'll be back soon."

"Would you mind if we waited here for him." It wasn't a question.

She nodded dumbly, her mind still reeling. A noise behind her told her that Mulder was waking up. "Agent Wiesnicki, Agent Woodsburrow, would you mind waiting outside for a few minutes?"

Woodsburrow looked like he was about to protest but Wiesnicki elbowed him slightly. "Certainly." They both inclined their heads in parting and left the room. Scully closed the door behind him and turned to face her partner.

Mulder was blinking his eyes rapidly, trying to clear the sleep away. "Who was that?"

"Agents from the Bureau. They got the fingerprint results." She leaned over and took his left hand in her two. "Mulder, it was Bill."

Instead of the surprise that she expected to see, Dana was shocked to find simple acknowledgment on his face. "I'm not going to press charges."

"What?"

"Scully, I can't have your brother arrested! Besides, he was drunk and didn't know what he was doing. He thought it was all a dream."

Stunned silence was followed by anger. "You *knew* it was him?! Mulder, why didn't you tell me? How did you know?"

Mulder chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "He wasn't wearing a mask." His heart broke at the hurt expression on her face. "I couldn't tell you it was him. I mean, what was I supposed to say? 'Hey Scully, your brother assaulted me, a federal officer and therefore a federal offense, and beat me to a bloody pulp because he was trying to protect you from me'? And what about your mom? She's very special to me and I don't want to have her suffer through her son going to jail. I would just end up hurting your family worse than I already have."

Dana didn't know whether she wanted to kill him or to hug him. She just stood there, mulling over which one. True, she didn't want her brother to go to jail, but she couldn't just let this slide. Bill had to take responsibility for his actions; otherwise she would never be able to trust him again. She didn't want to have to choose between her partner and her brother. Because she knew that, if she was forced to, her partner would win.

* * *

1:03 p.m.

Bill sipped at his steaming hot mocha latte and smiled. It had taken him almost half an hour, but he had found a Starbucks just down the street. He had even thought of Dana while he was there and picked her up something as well, knowing that she would most likely be in need of some caffeine. He turned the corner to the hallway that led to Mulder's room and was surprised to see two men sitting outside the door. They were both wearing suits and had a look about them that screamed government.

He hesitated a moment, then decided that they were probably just there to ask Mulder questions or something. But as he got closer they stood, turning to face him. "William Scully?" the taller one asked.

"Yeah?"

The suit pulled out a badge. "You're under arrest for the attack on Agent Mulder." Next came some handcuffs.

"But I-" he stammered.

The shorter man pulled Bill's hands behind his back just after the other relieved him of the coffees. "You have the right to remain silent..."

As Woodsburrow read Bill his rights, Wiesnicki knocked on Mulder's door before opening it partially. "Agent Scully, we'll be taking the suspect now."

"Wait!" Dana cried. She jumped out of her chair and hurried to the door, opening it all the way to reveal Woodsburrow and her brother. "Wait, don't take him. Agent Mulder has decided to drop all charges."

Wiesnicki's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Excuse me?"

"I don't wish to press charges," Mulder repeated loudly from his bed.

The other agent's jaw dropped open. "But Agent Mulder, this man almost killed you."

"No he didn't. Bill had come over to help me move some things in my apartment and he must have touched the cane. The man who attacked me was wearing gloves."

Wiesnicki eyed Mulder, trying to ascertain whether he was being told the truth. Unable to discern Mulder's sincerity, he turned to his partner. "Let him go, Mike."

"But all the evidence-" Woodsburrow protested.

"Mike, I said let him go."

Without any further objections, Woodsburrow removed the handcuffs and stuck them back in his pocket. Wiesnicki swept his eyes over everyone, encompassing them all in his next statement. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. We'll let the boys in charge of the investigation know about this new information and we'll re-evaluate our search parameters. Agent Mulder, I hope you feel better." With that, Wiesnicki whirled around and strode down the hallway, his partner scurrying to catch up.

"I think I pissed him off," Mulder said dryly.

Bill chuckled. "Yeah, don't know if he'll live that one down. False arrest and all."

Dana spun around to face her brother. "How dare you! How dare you do this to my partner! To mom and me! How could you? Being drunk is no excuse and you know it. I don't care if you were too wasted to remember your name; it is going to take a long time for me to forgive you. If ever."

"But Dana, I-"

"But Dana nothing! You could have killed Mulder! You practically tried!" Scully stopped to take several long deep breaths. "I am going to go along with this charade on one condition."

"What's that."

"You are going to join AA."

"Alcoholics Anonymous?" Bill stuttered. "But I'm not a drunk!"

"When you are able to become unaware of what you are doing and allow yourself to physically harm another human being, you need help. I know about your brawling and Tara having to bail you out. This isn't a one time incident, Bill."

Bill looked down at his feet, shifting them back and forth like a little boy being admonished for being caught red-handed stealing cookies from the cookie jar. "Okay, I'll go." His head snapped up, his eyes wide. "You're not going to tell Mom, are you?"

Scully pursed her lips. "I don't know. It depends on whether you keep your word. Telling Tara is up to you though."

Bill thought over the conditions and nodded. "Only fair."

"It's more than fair," Dana replied icily. "Now I want you out of here."

"C'mon Dana," Bill whined.

"Don't push it. It is going to take a long time for me to forgive you. I will be civil to you at all family gatherings for Mom's sake, but you are no longer my brother until the day you can prove that you are the same kind and understanding person I grew up with." Scully turned away from him, ending the conversation there.

Bill swallowed the lump in his throat and faced the man in the bed. "Mulder, I want to apologize for what I've done and I also want to thank you for handling it so well. You really do care about my family and I want you to know that I respect you for that. There's no one I'd rather have watching out for my sister."

Mulder inclined his head in acceptance of the apology and with that, Bill walked out the door. Mulder reached out and laid a hand on Scully's forearm. "Dana?" She raised her eyes to meet his. "I'm so sorry about all this."

"It's not your fault, you didn't cause this to happen, no matter what Bill says." She looked over her shoulder at the door. "You're a much more forgiving person than I am."

"He was just trying to protect you."

"By killing you?"

"I would kill to protect you if there was good cause," Mulder admitted.

"But you're also willing to die to protect me," Dana accused.

A wry smile flitted across Mulder's face. "True."

"I don't want to lose you, Mulder. Not because you threw your life away trying to assure my safety." She paused to underline the importance of her next comment. "I love you, Mulder and I don't want to spend my life without you."

A warm glow descended upon Mulder's face, tears welled up in his eyes and his lower lip trembled with emotion. He opened his arms wide and Scully fell into them, muttering a quiet "sorry" when he grunted in pain. She snuggled into his warm embrace, breathing in his distinct scent. He bent his head forward and kissed the top of her head, murmuring "I love you too" into her hair.

Dana tilted her head up so that their faces were mere centimeters apart and looked into his hazel depths. "Promise not to leave me?"

He smiled down at her. "I promise." He leaned forward and captured her mouth in a gentle kiss.

Then all was truly right with the world.


End file.
